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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540850">say something</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_bird/pseuds/Willow_bird'>Willow_bird</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>on the tip of my tongue (say something) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(no seriously its basically all i do here), ASL, Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Andrew Minyard Loves Neil Josten, Anxiety, Cuddling, Emotional Support, Friendship, Gen, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Joint Therapy, Kissing, M/M, Minor Violence, Neck Kissing, Neil gets help, Neil's anxiety manifests as him going temporarily non-verbal, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Andrew Minyard, Post-Canon, Protective Andrew Minyard, Protective Neil Josten, Selective Mutism Neil Josten, Soft Andrew Minyard, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Therapy, gratuitous softness, hand holding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:01:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>45,614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_bird/pseuds/Willow_bird</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With his free hand, Andrew pulled out his phone and looked again at the message Neil had sent him about it. </p><p>
  <b>talking is hard today.</b>
</p><p>Not <i>'I don’t want to talk'</i> or <i>'I have nothing to say'</i> but <i>'talking is hard'</i>. </p><p>***</p><p>On a bad day, Neil struggles with his own mental state, and Andrew figures out how to be there for him. As they wade through this together, both young men realize its okay to lean on each other and that they are capable of both reaching out as well as hanging on. Also, Betsy has shipped them from the beginning, let's be completely honest here.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Betsy Dobson &amp; Andrew Minyard, Betsy Dobson &amp; Neil Josten, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>on the tip of my tongue (say something) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>368</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1407</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, yeah. What was supposed to be a "quick note" on my phone turned into a first chapter of over 5000 words and a hand cramp a few hours later. No big. I have part of the second chapter written already and I think it'll end up being 5 chapters long, but we'll see how it goes. I'm still writing my Writer!Andrew AU, and there's also this trashy HS AU that I started because I really have zero impulse control, but this one has me by the horns so I wouldn't be surprised if I zoom through and finish this one first. </p><p>This is post-canon, set in Neil's Sophomore year. I honestly haven't thought that deeply about timelines or how well any of this may or may not align with the extra content, so it very well may be canon divergent as well as OOC, but... it's self-indulgent fantrash? Still, I hope it's enjoyable. Lemme know :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day itself hadn't started off any better or worse than any other day. It wasn't a <i>bad</i> day, not like there could sometimes be bad days, but it wasn't exactly a good day either.</p>
<p>Considering that "good" days were still weird to have on such a regular basis, Andrew really didn't think anything of it. Neil woke up already tired, but both of them had their respective night-time dilemmas and if Josten wanted to talk about it he would. Otherwise, it was none of his damn business and he'd give the other man his space.</p>
<p>Still.. he held Neil's gaze for a few moments after the striker chose to get dressed for his morning run in the bathroom rather than in the bedroom like he usually did. While Neil still changed out for practice apart from the rest of the team, in the privacy of their own dorm he usually didn't have that issue - especially when Nicky and Kevin were still dead asleep and Andrew himself was only momentarily conscious because he was a light sleeper and Neil rustling about always woke him - if only briefly.</p>
<p>(He didn't dwell on the fact that, yes, he woke when Neil got up but easily could have gone back to sleep right away. If he liked to keep track of that idiot to make sure he wasn't doing something stupid like panicking or whatever, it was nobody's fucking business.)</p>
<p>Anyway, Neil changed in the bathroom and looked like he barely slept, but he didn't shy away from meeting Andrew's gaze when he caught it over the side of the loft. He only silently raised his trainers in explanation for his being awake at whatever-the-fuck time it was and flashed him a distinctly <i>Neil</i> sort of smirk that smoothed the hackles threatening to raise at the back of his neck. Andrew just gave him a cold look and lifted his phone in silent demand.</p>
<p>Neil sighed, then checked his pocket before holding up his phone on response. When Andrew only narrowed his eyes, Neil sighed again (heavier this time, the drama queen) and flipped it open to show by it's instant glow of soft bluish light that it was, on fact, powered on. </p>
<p>Satisfied, Andrew only flicked his hand in dismissal before sinking back into the downy embrace of his pillows. He was asleep again before the door of the suite shut, and that was that.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Neil wasn't back by the time the rest of them got up for morning practice, but this was only vaguely annoying. The junkie was probably already at the court rather than coming all the way back to the dorms just to turn right back around again. The man's unfortunate obsession proved him predictable when they all arrived at the court just before six-thirty to find the striker already there, drinking from his water bottle on the bottom steps of the stadium.</p>
<p>"What the hell, Josten!" Kevin was already chirping in disdain, but Neil didn't seem too perturbed as he all but ignored him, jumping up and moving to do some stretching while everyone else changed out.</p>
<p>"Hey! I'm talking to you."</p>
<p>Neil blinked at him. "What did you need, Kevin?" His tone was utterly flat, his expression casual, even his eyes impassive. Those glacial eyes, which Andrew was so used to seeing spark with one kind of fire or another. Right now, they looked disquietingly dead.</p>
<p>Andrew studied his little idiot carefully, recalling the slightly-off-but-not-alarming morning and slotting it next to his current attitude. There still didn't seem to be anything to be worried about, and Neil was more than capable of handling his own shit, especially <i>Kevin</i>, but he paid attention nonetheless.</p>
<p>(What Andrew didn't like to admit was that it was fucking impossible <i>not</i> to pay attention to Neil. So there was that too.)</p>
<p>Kevin's eye twitched. "If you were going to come to practice early you should have told me. I'd have made sure you were using the extra time well."</p>
<p>It was too early for most of the rest of the team to care about Kevin's dramatics, so Andrew was the only one hanging back to watch. He observed with silent apathy as Neil merely shrugged and said nothing else.</p>
<p>Kevin, apparently, didn't appreciate being more or less ignored. "Well!?"</p>
<p>Neil just stared at him, giving him absolutely <i>nothing</i>, until the bigger man scoffed, threw his hands up, and stormed off to the locker room. That impassive blue gaze shifted to Andrew next, waiting, waiting, but nothing else. He still looked tired, and there was nothing lifelike about those ice-shard eyes - which was odd only because he was getting so used to seeing them spark with <i>something</i> whenever they landed on him. Annoyance or desire - or peskier things like <i>affection</i> and <i>humor</i> - or at the bare minimum, recognition. Right now? Nothing. He might as well have been an empty spot of drywall.</p>
<p>He did not like that, oh no he did not - but he also did not want to analyze that unsettling feeling inside himself too closely.</p>
<p>Andrew studied him for a long moment, then shrugged and followed Kevin into the locker room to get his gear and change out. He doubted whatever funk Josten was in couldn't be solved by a couple of hours of his precious stickball - especially since today they'd be scrimmaging and running practice plays in preparation for their game on Friday.</p>
<p>Practice went by normally enough in that it was half disaster and the rest just fucking annoying. The freshmen were all over the fucking place and that little shit Jack was in special form, his lips permanently fused to Kevin's asshole whenever he wasn't spewing his own shit. Whenever the bratty little dick wasn't mouthing off (usually at Neil or Nicky - because clearly he had a death wish) he was throwing himself around the court in an attempt to show off that only served to fuck up what everyone else was doing. Even Kevin snapped at him a few times. </p>
<p>Neil, though, was mostly quiet. (In fact, he spoke less and less as the practice went on, as if he had a limited amount of words available on that silver tongue of his and he was quickly running out.) Even without words, he only responded once - and if Andrew didn't know him better he might have even thought it was an accident, the way Neil's racket swept just a little bit too low and sent the kid sprawling right after he made a comment too quiet for Andrew to hear, though guessing by the little fucker's sneer and the way he'd been looking toward the goal Andrew was guarding, he guessed it probably has something to do with him. The thought made him snort with annoyance. He didn't need Josten fucking defending him, certainly not from some upstart little shit-for-brains like Jack.</p>
<p>(Again, he ignored the complicated little whisper of <i>nothing</i> that wormed around uncomfortably in his chest at the idea of Neil, on a day where the striker didn't even have the right presence to defend himself with his usual vigor, using up his energy to instead lash out in defense of <i>him</i>...)</p>
<p>By the time practice was over, Andrew wasn't the only one noticing that Neil was being more... subdued than usual. His performance on the court was fine. Not quite up to his usual spunk and energy, but it wasn't like he was unfocused or anything. He paid attention when others talked to him, he bore with Kevin's usual bitchy style of.. well, being an overbearing asshat really. Just, instead of handling it with his usual sass, banter, and return-of-fire, he just listened silently then followed the direction as best as his current energy level seemed to allow. Andrew watched as each of the foxes (sans himself, Aaron, and the freshmen) approached him at various points throughout practice to ask if he was okay. To each of them, Neil just rose a brow, shrugged, and flashed an almost sheepish smirk that seemed to put most everyone else at ease. Like this morning, when he gave the same little dance to Andrew, it made it seem like he was just... tired, or out of it in a way that, were Neil a normal person, would be considered normal.</p>
<p>Except Neil was not normal, and this was not his song and dance. </p>
<p>Andrew's eyes narrowed as he watched Neil give the little routine to Dan as practice came to an end and everyone was heading off to the locker room to change out and get ready for classes. He watched as Dan smiled and patted Neil's shoulder before turning away. Because he was <i>still</i> watching, he saw the shudder and the way Neil rolled that same shoulder as if to rid himself the memory of the friendly touch he'd forced himself to put up with because dodging it would have been conspicuous and Neil, that fucking rabbit, was doing everything he <i>fucking could</i> to avoid notice today.</p>
<p>An inexplicable rage bubbled up inside of Andrew, and he wasn't sure what exactly had caused it. He wasn't sure if it was because Neil was hiding something, or because he had just allowed a touch boundary to be breached for the sake of protecting someone else's feelings or his own suddenly desperate need to not draw attention to himself (Andrew didn't know which it was and he didn't <i>care</i>), or maybe it was just because in the simplest of ways - Neil was just touched when he didn't want to be touched and that was a button for him personally, one made more sensitive when it was <i>Neil</i>. Neil who always respected those boundaries in everyone else. Who always respected those boundaries in <i>Andrew</i>. Always. No matter the situation, no matter the smallness of the requested touch, no matter how many other times before that permission had been granted.</p>
<p>Neil wasn't heading into the locker room yet but this wasn't unusual. Sometimes he would follow everyone in and strip down in the shower stall, taking his time so people could clear out before he got dressed after to avoid getting dressed while still damp. Sometimes he would stretch out the time by doing a few extra laps as a cool down while everyone else showered and dressed. He didn't have any early classes, so he always had plenty of time to kill, partially for that reason. Today, Andrew watched Neil watch the others vanish into the locker room. He watched Neil stare off into space for a good five minutes before his idiot rabbit finally turned to begin jogging. There was a disconnect there that made Andrew wonder if Neil realized how long he'd been zoned out, and that made him angry again so he very determinedly did not look at the striker as he finally made his own way into the locker room to change out and shower. </p>
<p>When he finished, Neil was just coming in as most everyone else was filing out to head to their respective classes. He didn't look at the other man and instead just finished getting dressed. Instead of following the rest of his group out to wait in the lounge like usual, he shooed them off with an expressive finger and a dead stare, making himself comfortable on the bench to wait for Neil.</p>
<p>He didn't have to wait too long, which was as reassuring as it was aggravating because he was half expecting Josten to zone out in the shower. He'd done it before, on an off day, and when Andrew had finally given up and gone in to make sure the idiot hadn't drowned he'd just blinked at him like he'd lost time and didn't know where it all had gone. Given the five-minute staredown a little earlier, he'd thought maybe that's where they were headed, but after a very normal-length shower Neil emerged with a towel around his waist and his gear clutched in his free hand. He glanced at Andrew for long enough that he could see the striker was clear-eyed and present, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him as he put his gear away, turned his back, and started to get dressed. He did so quickly, efficiently.</p>
<p>That made Andrew frown. Both that Neil had deliberately turned his back and that he seemed almost <i>hasty</i> to get dressed. Not that Neil was typically relaxed about being nude, but he hadn't turned his back, hadn't <i>hidden</i> from Andrew in a long time. </p>
<p>Wait, that wasn't true. This morning. He'd changed in the bathroom this morning, too - rather than be naked in the bedroom with him and the others. No, the others were asleep.</p>
<p>With <i>him.</i></p>
<p>Something cold and sick and uncomfortably anxious curled around the base of his spine like a serpent nesting for the long, aching winter. Tight, hungry, angry, and dangerously resigned.</p>
<p>"Neil." His voice came out far steadier than he felt, and he was thankful for that.</p>
<p>Neil paused in tying his shoes, though it took him a moment before he looked over at him. He said nothing.</p>
<p>Andrew studied him as if he could somehow read the truth in the vacant mirrors of his too-blue eyes. He saw, disturbingly, nothing. Anger welled up again, but he swallowed it down - almost choking on it as it lodged too high in his throat thanks to the disgust already clinging to his tonsils.</p>
<p>"Neil," he said again. This time there was the flicker of <i>something</i> on the idiot's face. Something almost warm. He could almost imagine the soft tease in his stupid voice.</p>
<p>
  <i>Yes, that is my name.</i>
</p>
<p>Andrew didn't permit himself relief and instead focused on the issue at hand.</p>
<p>"You're weirdly quiet today. Didn't we already have a chat about you having too many issues?"</p>
<p>Andrew didn't believe in regret, but the moment he said the words he knew they were the wrong ones. That flicker of warmth he'd managed to somehow coax out was suddenly gone, snuffed out behind a blank, impassive wall.</p>
<p>Silently, Neil turned back to tying his shoes, and shrugged. Later, Andrew would realize that he's probably the only person who ever would have caught the way the striker's hands shook as they tied the laces.</p>
<p>"Neil." This time, the name came out harsher, through gritted teeth, and as much as he hated himself for the clear emotion in that one <i>fucking insignificant</i> syllable, he didn't believe in regret. How could he, when Neil snapped his face instantly toward him like that, giving him another peak behind the mask into whatever the <i>fuck</i> was going on in that fucking idiot's head.</p>
<p>Blue eyes scanned his face, flashing with... with fucking <i>concern</i>. For <i>him</i>. Leave it to Neil fucking Josten to be worried about <i>him</i> when he clearly should be worrying about his own stupid self.</p>
<p>Neil stared at him, and this time - this time Andrew just waited.</p>
<p>He didn't know how long it would have taken for Neil to finally say something, because before they got there a shout jolted them both out of their fucking skins.</p>
<p>"You two BETTER not be fucking in there, Andrew! I've got to fucking get to class!"</p>
<p>"Fucking <i>walk</i> then, Day!" Andrew snarled back without taking his eyes off Neil, who despite the sudden scare still hadn't so much as glanced away from him either.</p>
<p>"No! If I have to walk back to the Tower and then to class I'll be fucking late! Let's <i>go!</i>"</p>
<p>Andrew gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Fuck Kevin. Fuck Kevin with a fucking racket. Fuck. <i>Fuck!</i> </p>
<p>Neil's mouth pressed into a tight line and then he looked away again. He picked up his phone and flipped it open, typing something in. Half a second later, his own buzzed. With a raised brow, Andrew pulled it out and flipped it open to check the incoming message from <i>Pipedream</i>:</p>
<p>
  <b>later. I promise.</b>
</p>
<p>When he looked up, Neil was already walking away.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>What started out as neither a good nor a bad day was quickly spiraling into a decidedly <i>awful</i> day. </p>
<p>The only thing that kept him from completely losing his shit was the fact that even though Neil fucking Josten seemed to mysteriously vanish during all the times he was usually at the dorms between and around classes, he was at least responding to his fucking texts. Oh, it was nothing particularly <i>helpful</i>, but he wasn't up and vanishing completely. </p>
<p>
  <i>where r u?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <b>studying</b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>that's not a location dumbass</i>
</p>
<p>Andrew gripped the phone in both hands, his foot bouncing impatiently as he struggled not to think about Neil hiding from him, about the possible meanings behind that, as he sat in the living room of their suite during their mutual lunchtime. He gave the idiot a full fifteen minutes before he texted again.</p>
<p>
  <i>location, rabbit.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <b>library</b>
</p>
<p>He almost launched out the fucking door but he stopped himself. If Neil was trying to get away from him, if he didn't feel safe around him anymore for some reason, he didn't want to push. </p>
<p>Fuck, if only he could think about what he'd done. He had to have done something, right? Was it the last time they touched? He didn't think he'd crossed any lines, but fucking Neil with his fucking <i>"it's always yes"</i>, that fucking <i>idiot<i>...</i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He could feel the phone creaking in his hands and the only thing stopping him from breaking the damn thing was it buzzing against his palms.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <b>talking is hard today.</b>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Andrew stared at that message for a very, very long time. He almost didn't know what to do with that unasked-for truth. That freely-offered confession. It threw him off to the point where it even knocked back his anger and self-disgust, if only to give his brain a few more resources to pull together and try and compute what his stupid little rabbit was trying to tell him.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>From the hall, he heard Nicky chattering away with Matt, loud and obnoxious as usual - and at least a part of it clicked into place. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil went to the library, because at least there no one would try to talk to him. No one would ask him for something he couldn't give - for something he couldn't even <i>tell</i> people he wasn't up to offering today. That still didn't explain the shyness, the hiding of his body from Andrew on two occasions today, but it was something. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Andrew ignored the sickening glow of gratitude in his chest as his thumbs typed out a quick message before he could second guess himself. Before he could overthink it even more.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
      <i>i can join u?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Andrew normally left off question marks, even when he was asking an obvious question. Something about them stank of a vulnerability he didn't like perceived about him, ever. But with Neil.. with Neil right now... He didn't want to make it seem like he was forcing his presence on him. If Neil was having trouble talking today, he wanted to make it as easy and as painless as possible for him to say "No" if and when he needed to.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>His answer came almost immediately.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <b>yes.</b>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The relief that swept through him made him want to fucking throw up. He ignored it, already heading for the door. When Nicky, who was still in the hallway talking to Matt, tried to say something to him as he passed he ignored him, too.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>*****</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil was sitting at a study table near the corner where he could have a clear view of anyone coming his way, as well as access to the exits on both adjacent walls. Even though his table was meant for four people to be able to sit at comfortably, Neil had made the effort to spread out his materials to occupy the entire table. Not only that, but he’d also gotten rid of two of the extra chairs - distributing to two other tables further along the wall in a way that seemed almost like they were meant to be there. The only remaining extra chair beyond the one he occupied himself was playing host to his backpack.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Andrew hung back for a moment before Neil noticed him. He took in the whole set up, how sickeningly <i>defensive</i> it was, and let that weigh him down for a few moments before he also had to let himself acknowledge that Neil had kept that second chair - and it wasn’t for his fucking backpack. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>It was for <i>him.</i></i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He made sure Neil heard his footsteps as he slowly approached, and was somewhat surprised when Neil looked up slowly rather than with a jolt. Something about the setup and the silences and his own moniker for the other man had him expecting Neil to be acting jumpy and skittish - but he wasn’t. He was just… quiet. Quiet and… almost vacant. Numb. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Without saying anything, Neil took his backpack off the other chair so that Andrew could sit down. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“You’ve never gone quiet like this before.” Andrew wasn’t sure what he had been going to say until he just said it, but that summed things up well enough he didn’t add anything else. He looked at Neil to find Neil watching him steadily, those fucking eyes alert even with the shadows weighing him down beyond that unbelievable blue. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>There was a long stretch of silence (and wasn’t <i>that</i> just the fucking theme of the day?), and then Neil looked down at the narrow space between them. When Andrew followed his gaze he saw Neil’s hand, palm up, waiting in unspoken question.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>

      <i>Hold my hand. Yes or no?</i>
  
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil’s gaze flicked up and caught his, held it, and when Andrew slotted their hands together he was able to watch as the tension eased out of the other man’s shoulders. He was able to <i>watch</i> as life flickered through those eyes, warming them to something that was so private, so personal, so specific to whenever the striker looked at <i>him</i> that Andrew almost let go because he didn’t deserve to be looked at like that. Neil didn’t smile, but he didn’t have to. He just looked at him like <i>that</i>, and when Andrew pushed his face away with his free hand, he sighed in that way that somehow let Andrew know that whatever was going on, they were okay. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Andrew continued to watch Neil for a few minutes after the other had turned back to studying his notes, puzzling over this… mood, or development, or whatever the fuck was going on today. They’d spent plenty of time together without talking to each other. Hell, half of their fucking <i>whatever this was</i> was spent in easy silences. Andrew wasn’t much for chatter outside of his very select group, and even within it he didn’t like to speak unless he had something to say. As it happened, he rarely had something to say. This was a different sort of quiet, though. It was almost like Neil <i>wanted</i> to say something, but he just… couldn’t. And the pressure of everyone expecting words from him had cut him off completely. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>With his free hand, Andrew pulled out his phone and looked again at the message Neil had sent him about it. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <b>talking is hard today.</b>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  Not <i>'I don’t want to talk'</i> or <i>'I have nothing to say'</i> but <i>'talking is hard'</i>. 
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He didn’t realize that he was squeezing Neil’s hand until he felt the other move and turned his head to find the striker looking at him. There it was again, concern, lingering in those eyes. Concern for him - <i>him, Andrew</i> - when Neil was the one suffering from something today. Andrew didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t comfort people. He wasn’t a fucking nurturer. He was a fucking weapon - meant to take down any threat posed to him or his. He was as sharp as the knives he kept in his armbands. He didn’t do… this. He didn’t know how to help Neil. This wasn’t like his panic attacks, where Andrew could bully him back into the present, fighting against the angry ghosts and shadows of memories that occasionally infested that idiot brain of his. This was something else and Andrew didn’t know what to <i>do</i>. He felt fucking helpless and he hated it. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Don’t look at me like that.” He meant for the words to come out empty, or maybe with a bit of scorn. The actual tone was much too soft and much too rough to be anything other than an admission of weakness. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil squeezed his hand in fucking <i>encouragement</i>. Fuck, he hated him. He hated how he could just, be there - how he could offer him reassurance and comfort like it was easy, like it cost him nothing, like he was damn <i>happy</i> to give more and more of himself so that the people around him could be even a little bit more at ease - so that <i>Andrew</i> could be more at ease. How did someone who’d suffered so much under the hands of others, under the hands of others who were supposed to fucking take <i>care</i> of him, manage to still give so much away like that? </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>And who the fuck was there to give it to him in return? The other Foxes were clueless, even though he knew they fucking adored Neil. Today, they’d picked up on Neil’s quiet but not on anything deeper. They were so willing to believe that he was normal, that he was okay, when to Andrew it was glaringly obvious that he wasn’t. He wasn’t normal, and he wasn’t fucking “okay”. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“You aren’t okay,” he growled out before he realized he was doing it. “You aren’t okay and no one else could see it.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil frowned at him and tilted his head. He didn’t have to open his damn mouth but Andrew still knew what he was saying. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
 
      <i>They asked if I was okay. You saw them ask.</i>

</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Fuck you, Neil, you know what I mean.” He glared until Neil sighed and shrugged, which was as much of a concession as he supposed he was going to get. “So you’re not okay. They don’t fucking give a shit to notice, and I sure as fuck can’t fix you.” This time the words came out harsher than he intended and he bit back a curse when Neil flinched. He tightened his hand briefly when Neil went to pull away - then snatched his own quickly away when he realized what he was doing. If Neil didn’t want to touch him anymore, he wasn’t going to force the contact. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Which brought back the other issue that Andrew had, somehow, managed to forget about until just then. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil being suddenly body shy around him in a way he never had been before. It occurred to him, distantly, that his own boundaries were flexible and that some days he was able to tolerate more than others so it was probably reasonable to assume that it could be the same with Neil. However, it was just too seductive to the self-destructive monster inside him to latch on to the possibility that it was something to do with him, something he had done, that had caused it. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Andrew stood up abruptly and was half a step away when a tug on the hem of his shirt made him freeze. He looked over and the look on Neil’s face…</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Andrew wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that kind of panic on Neil’s face before. His eyes were too wide, his forehead tense, his lips parted and his shoulders were fucking <i>trembling</i>. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked like Neil was about to cry. But Neil “I’m Fine” Josten did not cry any more than Andrew “The Monster” Minyard did. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil’s mouth opened and shut a few times like he was trying to say something, and Andrew realized that that was <i>exactly</i> what he was trying to do. But today, talking was hard. Today, talking was hard, and Andrew - supreme asshole that he was - had confronted Neil about things that weren’t even his fucking fault like he was expecting answers. He knew that Neil struggled with making his pain a burden on the people he cared about. He <i>knew</i> that. Neil’s fucking martyr complex pissed him the hell off for multiple reasons, but he wasn’t so much of an idiot himself that he didn’t realize at least some of what was behind it. Apparently he was a bastard enough to throw it in his face and then reinforce his fears, though - because that’s exactly what he’d done when he’d whined about not being able to do anything to help and then making to up and abandon Neil when that stupid, soft, trusting little rabbit had let him into his space when he was vulnerable. Because that’s what Neil was without his voice - fucking defenseless, like Andrew without his knives. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Stay.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The one short, quiet, hoarse word snapped him out of his thoughts. Neil was trembling, his whole body was tense, and his expression was set. That mouth of his was pursed, jaw tight like he was gritting his teeth, and his chin was lifted in a show of stubborn defiance that was utterly ruined by the raw fucking <i>anguish</i> in his eyes. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>There was a dark, awful little part of Andrew that wanted to say <i>’no’</i> and turn around, walk away. He didn’t deserve Neil’s trust and vulnerability, didn’t deserve to have him look at him the way he so often did, and this was a moment where he could break that. He knew he could. He could feel it trembling between them. Neil, who asked for nothing - who gave and gave and gave - was asking <i>him</i> to <i>stay</i>. Andrew knew it more than just to stay here in the library with him, at the table. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil was asking him to stay.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The anger melted out of him and he sighed, sitting back down. He looked down at the hand still holding onto the hem of his shirt with a white-knuckled grip. When Neil followed his gaze and made to let go, Andrew wrapped his hand loosely around his wrist instead - keeping the touch superficial enough that Neil could pull away easily. Meeting those too-blue eyes, Andrew slowly lifted Neil’s hand until he could gently press it against his cheek. When he let go, Neil hesitated long enough for Andrew to give him a nod of confirmation before he pressed more firmly and relaxed his fingers, cradling his face in an intimate gesture that reassured the both of them in ways that Andrew really couldn’t have words for even if he tried. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Slowly, carefully, Andrew layered his hand over Neil’s and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, watching the way Neil’s eyes widened. It was almost comical, except nothing about this was funny right now. “I am not going anywhere,” he continued steadily, his voice hard and his expression even harder. He wasn’t sure what Neil saw or heard in either, but whatever it was relaxed him significantly. “No matter what your issues are, or how many you have. If there are days where talking is hard, then don’t talk. I really shouldn’t be throwing fucking stones, considering how much of a chatterbox I’m absolutely fucking not. If it bothers you, then we’ll find a way around it. If not, then I won’t bring it up again. You don’t owe shit to anyone, Neil. Least of all to me.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Neil studied him for a long moment, and he must have found something that reassured him because he closed his eyes then and bowed his head slightly, letting out a long sigh. Andrew leaned forward a little bit and gently rested their foreheads together. Their breath mingled, and Andrew let himself relax, finally. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He still didn’t know what the fuck was going on, and that still bothered him - but he was realizing (stupidly slow) that Neil was relying on him through it, even if it wasn’t in the ways he was used to being relied on. Andrew was a physical wall. He was a weapon or maybe a shield. He wasn’t used to being an emotional support, just like he wasn’t used to having one for himself. He and Neil… whatever they were to each other, he was beginning to realize that <i>that</i> was a part of it. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Get ready, Bee. Next session was going to be one for the record books.</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Andrew stands by Neil and struggles with <i>feelings</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh gosh guys, thank you so much I.. I have no words for how it feels to see your comments and kudos and support. I tried to respond to everyone and I want you all to know how genuinely touched I am that you've taken the time to read my take on these beautiful lil disasters. I really didn't expect that. &lt;3 &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the next hour or so, Andrew stayed with Neil in the library. They lingered in what was probably the most comfortable silence of the whole day. Andrew didn’t feel the need to say anything, and Neil at least <i>seemed</i> content as he poured over his homework or read through his notes. </p><p>For his part, Andrew tried not to think too deeply about anything. Brooding about whatever-the-fuck emotional bullshit was in the works here was exhausting, and (if he was being completely honest with himself) he wasn’t ready to tackle it on his own. <i>Especially</i> not today. Tomorrow would be his appointment with Bee, and even if Aaron was crashing it again like he did most weeks, he could at least see about setting up an extra session. He was almost tempted to call Bee and see about getting in today, maybe while his quiet little rabbit was in class - but he knew once he opened up the door on this… <i>this</i>, Bee was going to latch on and they’d start wrestling it into the ground. He couldn’t be sure how he’d feel about anything afterward, and he wanted to make sure he could continue to be there for Neil at least throughout the rest of the day. </p><p>(And he was <i>not</i> going to let himself think about why or what the fuck that meant.)</p><p>Instead, Andrew just let his mind wander thinking about nothing important or just nothing at all. When he got bored of that he stole a sheet of paper from Neil and began systematically tearing it into tinier and tinier pieces, which he left scattered all over the table and the floor like delinquent snow when it was time for them to go. </p><p>Neil looked at him, then looked at the mess. Andrew shrugged at his raised eyebrow, and Neil huffed a sound that Andrew knew meant he was somewhere between amused and exasperated. The normalcy of the whole exchange made a rebellious shard of kindling hiss and smolder somewhere hidden in his chest. </p><p>He ignored it.</p><p>He also ignored the uncomfortable feeling that tugged on his bones and ligaments when they got to Neil’s building for his afternoon Spanish class. It wasn’t until Neil hesitated to enter that he realized he didn’t want Neil to go. It was far more work than he would ever like to admit, even to himself, to bury the impulse to drag Neil back off to the dorms for the rest of the day and barricade themselves in. The thought of other people trying to talk to Neil today made his gut burn with a familiar protective fire made no softer by the lack of actual physical threat.</p><p>That wasn’t his call, though. The only one who could make the decision on where Neil went and what he subjected himself to today, what he was able and willing to put up with, was Neil. Andrew’s pissy feelings on the matter were utterly inconsequential. </p><p>Still, Neil was an idiot, so he could at least remind him of his options. Especially with the way the fucking rabbit was looking quietly up at the building with that awfully blank expression again. </p><p>“Hey.” Andrew snapped his fingers in front of Neil’s face, making the striker glare at him. Andrew rolled his eyes at the attitude, ignoring the small flutter of relief that he’d even gotten that much, considering how much Neil was going back and forth today between being almost-normal and an eerily convincing impression of a fucking zombie. </p><p>“Don’t give me that,” he deadpanned, then nodded at the building. “You don’t have to go.” When Neil frowned at him, as if to say <i>’Of course I fucking have to go’</i>, Andrew rolled his eyes. “No, you don’t. Spanish class usually involves talking, right?” He was watching Neil carefully now, studying the way his throat moved and the way the color drained in his face despite his expression being utterly and completely blank. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look, do what you gotta do - play the sore throat card or laryngitis or something,” he ignored Neil’s eye roll there, “but if you change your mind and you need an out then fucking leave, got it?”</p><p>He didn’t like the feeling he got when he thought about his loudmouthed little rabbit, silenced and surrounded.</p><p>“I’m serious,” he growled when Neil just looked at him. He jabbed his finger meaningfully to the pocket where Neil kept his phone. “You leave and you fucking text me. I’ll take care of it.” He didn’t know <i>how</i> but that was beside the point. The fucking point being that if Neil decided he couldn’t do this today, he was to <i>not fucking do it</i>.</p><p>Andrew wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised when Neil nodded, himself or his stupid little idiot. He didn’t care beyond being relieved there wouldn’t be a fucking argument about it. All that mattered was that Neil was agreeing, and that he was going to text him if it got to be too much. </p><p>“Good, now get yourself to class, junkie.” </p><p>Neil blinked at him, and then he smiled. It was one of his small smiles, one of the private ones that was composed mainly of the look in his eyes and the slightest curve of his mouth. Just because his mouth didn’t move all that much didn’t mean it wasn’t an active part of the expression, though. This was a Neil smile that had a softer mouth, relaxed and content. Only the corner twitched up on the left side but there was a symmetry to it because this smile also accompanied the smallest head tilt to the right. His forehead was relaxed and his eyes…</p><p>It was the Neil-to-Andrew smile. <i>That</i> one. There wasn’t a language in the world that could translate it.</p><p>“...I hate you…” Andrew gave him a shove and ignored the crack of fire in his chest at the soft laugh he got in return. He didn’t watch Neil disappear into the building, because he was already walking away toward his own - and he did <i>not</i> think about how he had a catalog of Neil smiles in the back of his mind (fuck you, eidetic memory). He didn’t let himself lapse, for even a second, into letting himself admit that <i>that</i> smile was probably his favorite.</p><p>*****</p><p>The rest of the afternoon passed in an exhausting mix of too-slow and too-fast. By the time he got back to Fox Tower he didn’t have much energy left to do anything other than throw himself despondently on the couch and zone out while Nicky and Aaron played video games before dinner. If he were the kind of person who took naps on the couch, that’s what he’d probably do - but he wasn’t, so he didn’t. There was something cathartic about Nicky absolutely wiping the floor with Aaron in whatever fighting game they were playing, especially with how worked up about it Aaron kept getting about it.</p><p>“Oh, whoops! Was that… oh <i>dear</i> was that your <i>last hit point</i>, baby cousin? Aww, lookit! I think your guy is twitching on the floor! He’s so DEAD because my guy KILLED him, imagine that!” Nicky cackled as Aaron growled something undecipherable under his breath in response. Andrew had lost count of what round they were on at this point, but it was solidly in the double-digits and Nicky had won most of the matches. </p><p>“Give me your controller, this one is fucking busted or something,” Aaron grumbled, leaning over to try and snatch at Nicky’s, but the older man yelped and rolled out of the way. He stood up and, in a truly stupid move, held the controller high above his head and dangled it with a smirk. </p><p>“Try to get it, baby cuz.”</p><p>Children. They were fucking <i>children</i>. Andrew had just pulled his feet up to better avoid becoming collateral damage when the door opened and Neil returned. </p><p>He looked… normal. Maybe a bit tired, but otherwise - there wasn’t anything setting off any alarm bells as the striker trudged in, shutting and locking the door behind him, and then kicked off his shoes. Andrew watched as Neil paused to observe Aaron and Nicky being idiots, then scanned his gaze over to where Andrew was sitting on the couch. Their eyes met for a brief moment, a silent hello, and then Neil turned and headed into the kitchen. </p><p>When he returned a moment later to lean against the wall and watch as Aaron slammed Nicky in the stomach, he was holding an apple. </p><p>“Ugh! So..! Mean..! Baby cousin..!” Each word was clipped as the drama queen gasped desperately between them. </p><p>“Do <i>not</i> call me that.” Aaron ripped the controller out of Nicky’s hands as the older man wheezed, still doubled over from the hit. “You never pull that shit with Andrew.” This was incorrect. Nicky was an idiot and had limited self-preservation skills. Andrew just knew how to cut him off before he got too far. </p><p>“Well <i>yeah!</i> Andrew has <i>knives</i>, Aaron. Knives!” He winced as he stood up, rubbing a hand over his stomach where Aaron had gotten him. In the process, he spotted Neil and grinned. “Neil! I didn’t see you come in! How was your day? Did you catch a nap?!”</p><p>Neil took a huge bite of the apple and shrugged. Aha. Andrew caught his eye and raised a brow, and Neil looked almost sheepish for a moment before he tuned back in to whatever Nicky was prattling on about. When it looked like Nicky was going to push again for some kind of actual conversation, Neil gave the absolute fakest yawn and pointed to the bedroom. He topped the horrible performance off with another overly large bite of apple before skittering off to hide. The door shut and there were several beats of silence before Aaron looked up from where he’d been doing something on his phone while Nicky pestered Neil.</p><p>“The fuck is your guys’ problem?”</p><p>Nicky pointed at the closed bedroom door, looking distressed. “Something is wrong with our sweet baby Neil!”</p><p>Andrew’s eye twitched. </p><p>“Uh, this is new to you? Have you <i>met</i> the guy?” Aaron gave Nicky a weird look. Andrew, because apparently today was the day he was going to be emotionally mature, stood up and didn’t punch either of them. Instead, he swung by the desk by the window to grab his cigarettes before heading for the door. He needed a fucking smoke. </p><p>“Hey! Andrew! Where are you going?! What’s wrong with Neil? Are you guys fighting or something?” Andrew paused with his hand on the door handle, his jaw already aching by how much his teeth were clenching. Normally, he would just ignore his cousin and let Neil deal with him - because the second he left the dorm there was no doubt in his mind that Nicky would be knocking on the bedroom door. He was insufferable and nosy and really, Andrew should have killed him when he had the chance. </p><p>But today words were hard for Neil, and he’d already shown that he wasn’t willing to put up with Nicky by deciding to hide in the bedroom. What the fucking idiot <i>should</i> have done was gone right into the bedroom as soon as he got in, negating the chances of getting caught up in Nicky’s bullshit. But no, he had to let himself be caught and then make a really fucking suspicious escape. For a man who’d spent most of his life lying, he was a terrible fucking actor. </p><p>So instead of ignoring his cousin, he let his hand drop from the handle and he turned to face him. He didn’t realize there was a knife in his hand until Nicky tripped backwards. Clearly, he was more worked up about this than he realized - but he could use that to his advantage, for the moment at least. </p><p>“Leave him the fuck alone. It’s none of your fucking business.” He was sure his face was impassive, he was <i>sure</i> of it, but even he could hear the rage bubbling in his voice. That was okay, though. Rage, anger, and irritation were all on the Andrew Minyard Approved List of Acceptable Emotional Expression. It was also effective as fuck, and the whimper that came from Nicky as he cowered back another step was distinctly satisfying.</p><p>“Jesus <i>fuck</i> Andrew, put the knife away, he was just asking you a question.”</p><p>Oh, Aaron. </p><p>Andrew turned toward his brother and saw the fight brewing. Ever since joining in on his therapy sessions, Aaron seemed to think that he had a right to butt in on <i>all</i> of his business. And ever since he’d pulled that shit about Neil so he could hang on to that prissy little cheer skank, he apparently thought that he knew things that he clearly didn’t and was way too willing to involve himself where he absolutely did not belong. </p><p>This better not be one of those times, because Andrew was <i>not</i> in the mood. </p><p>Holding his twin’s gaze, Andrew put the knife back into his armband. “Just leave him alone.” He looked at Nicky. “He’s tired.” Considering how exhausted <i>Andrew</i> felt, he figured it couldn’t be too far off for Neil as well, even if that wasn’t the root of whatever was going on today. </p><p>He stared at Nicky until the other man nodded, then turned without another word and left. Once he got to the roof he sent off a text to Neil. </p><p>
  <i>ur shitty escape fooled no one.</i>
</p><p>He didn’t have to wait long for a response, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Not by a long shot.</p><p>
  <b>thank u</b>
</p><p>Andrew blinked down at the screen, like if he stared at it long enough the little buttons would jump up and give him a fucking musical number in explanation. It took him way too long to realize that Neil had probably heard the whole exchange between him, Nicky, and then Aaron. The little rabbit, hiding in its hole, heard the monster defend it from the wolves. </p><p>Feeling distinctly uncomfortable and not knowing how to respond, Andrew flipped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket so he could concentrate on lighting a cigarette and filling his lungs with grounding acridity. There was an odd war inside his chest between something that warmed conspicuously similar to relief, and a harsher, more familiar bite of disdain. People didn’t thank him. They didn’t get to be <i>grateful</i> of Andrew. That wasn’t a thing. He protected his own, he made his deals and kept his promises, he did what he said he was going to do and that was it. There was nothing in there to be grateful for. </p><p>If anything, he overstepped with the shit he pulled down in the dorm room. Neil wanted to fight his own battles, he wasn’t under Andrew’s protection. </p><p>(Except for the tiny matter of truth that was the fact that Andrew <i>wanted</i> to protect him, but every time Andrew’s thoughts have landed on that uncomfortable bit of honesty since last March he quickly veered left and found a different train of thought as fast as possible.)</p><p>Familiar footsteps behind him pulled him out of his thoughts. He didn’t turn to look, knowing who he would see. Instead, he just waited. When Neil sat down beside him, he shook out a second cigarette and passed it over. Rather than offer the lighter as well, he lit the flame for him and waited. Neil studied him for a moment, then leaned forward and Andrew took the opportunity to observe the idiot - to see if there was anything telling lingering on his face. There wasn’t, but Andrew still appreciated the unguarded view. It was easier, at this point, to let himself admit how much he liked looking at Neil - especially when the alternative was to be forced to confront how he <i>felt</i> regarding the striker. </p><p>Neil leaned back again and Andrew looked away. </p><p>Neither of them talked for the entire time they were up on the roof. Andrew didn’t confront Neil about the ‘thank u’ text, and Neil didn’t attempt to explain - not about the text or the day or however he was feeling. Once they’d both finished their cigarettes, and while Andrew was considering another one, Neil only reached out a hand in a silent question, exactly the same as in the library. </p><p>
  <i>Hold my hand. Yes or no?</i>
</p><p>Andrew held his hand. He linked their fingers and allowed their forearms - both protected in matching armbands - to press together. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Neil let out a long sigh. Then he turned his head to look at him more directly when the sappy idiot smiled. He did <i>not</i> think about that smile, and he did <i>not</i> acknowledge the loosening in his own chest at the sight.</p><p>Neil asked for nothing else, and Andrew didn’t offer. He just held his hand and looked his fill, then turned his attention out over the edge of the building and the long drop below, hoping maybe the familiar jolt of fear would wash away the more complicated clusterfuck inspired by his stupid rabbit. </p><p>It didn’t - but Andrew found he minded less than he thought he should. </p><p>*****</p><p>After a dinner of sandwiches, the lot of them headed back over to the stadium for their second round of practice for the day. Reflecting on how practice this morning had gone, and how Neil was still completely silent, Andrew had to admit he was curious to see how this was going to go. This morning, Neil was able to more or less pass off as being tired - but he was a shit actor and had more or less run out of excuses, not to mention the whole thing with Nicky before dinner. </p><p>Granted, <i>that</i> particular idiot seemed to be on his best behavior for now. When they’d returned from the roof, Nicky had watched them both annoyingly closely - but he hadn’t said anything. Nor had he pestered Neil at all through dinner or on the way over. Aaron had fallen into one of his own sullen silences and Kevin seemed more than happy to listen to himself talk without input from anyone else.<br/>
It became glaringly obvious how Neil was choosing to deal with practice from the second they got onto the court.</p><p>The fucking rabbit <i>never stopped moving</i>. He threw himself into every play, every drill, every fucking transport even if it was less than half the court, with every ounce of his energy. Every pass, every goal, every fucking <i>step</i> he made was given the weight and energy as if his life depended on it. It was giving him fucking flashbacks to the championship match against the Ravens last spring. Neil was a living storm on the court; beautiful, deadly, and completely out of control. </p><p>Dan was quick to capitalize on her vice captain’s momentum, especially when it became clear that the rest of the team was feeding off the energy. They were all either too confused or too intimidated to comment on it (which was a complicated realization for Andrew thanks to the flare of smug pride and the warring irritation that countered it) and thanks to Dan throwing them into a sudden deathmatch they didn’t have the time to, either. </p><p>Neil was utterly silent as he threw himself around the court - other than the rough gusts of his breath and the clash of his stick as he faced off first against Aaron, then against Matt. He had none of his usual quips, he didn’t call out to his team or taunt his opponents, he just <i>played</i>. Except “play” was too light of a word for what Neil was doing on the court tonight. It wasn’t even a game - it was a fucking practice, and he was fighting to the death regardless of the fact that there were no fucking enemies here for him to take down. Instead, he seemed to be fighting himself and Andrew was sure that not even Neil knew who was winning.</p><p>Andrew was guarding the goal that Neil was fighting toward, and <i>fuck him</i> for making him sweat during a fucking <i>practice</i> of all things. He didn’t even like to get worked up during their stupid fucking games, but having to put forth effort in some shitty practice was beyond annoying. Josten would fucking pay for this later, that was for damn sure.</p><p>Sure, he could have protested the effort easily enough. He’d spent plenty of practices standing around in the goal biding his time until it was just over. Honestly, depending on how shitty the opposing team was, he’d spent a lot of games like that too. But the way Neil was playing tonight was pissing him off. Whenever he clashed with a backliner, it was like he was trying to throw himself as hard as he fucking could into something solid just so that he could feel it. It wasn’t about the mechanic of getting the stupid little ball past his opponent, it was about running into a wall over and over again until his bones were etched with the collisions. When he took shots at the goal, he put all of his power into it. He wasn’t seeing Andrew, he was seeing how fucking hard he could push his <i>self</i> out through his fingertips with each throw. </p><p>Neil was screaming with his body because his voice wouldn’t cooperate. He was <i>screaming</i>, and that made Andrew want to spill blood across the court because he knew he was the only one who saw it for what it was. Kevin was grinning like a fucking idiot behind his helmet, excited by his little project’s fervor. Dan, too - and he normally begrudgingly respected the captain. Tonight he wanted to punch her in the fucking face for encouraging this, for letting it go on just so that her stupid little team could get in a workout. The rest of the team were all too focused on struggling to keep up or caught up in the manic energy that had overtaken the court to spare a moment to fucking <i>see</i> even if they <i>were</i> capable of it. </p><p>As Neil launched another shot at his goal, every jerk of his body desperate and overpowered but stupidly, exceptionally graceful in spite of it, Andrew was vividly reminded of what Kevin had said about Neil on that very first day back in that shitty little school in Millport, Arizona. </p><p>
  <i>’You play like you have everything to lose.’</i>
</p><p>A piece of the puzzle locked into place. Andrew still couldn’t see the whole picture but something started to register. Something started to make sense. </p><p>Andrew blocked the shot, but instead of sending it sailing he sent it directly back to Neil. Neil caught it and whipped it back and before he could take a step Andrew smashed it right back at him. Neil hadn’t been expecting it a second time and almost missed, but his fucked up little rabbit was hopped up on anxiety and had fast reflexes so he managed to catch and rebound again. </p><p>Finally, fucking finally, Neil planted his feet and <i>looked</i> at him. Their eyes locked, and Andrew smashed the ball right back at him again. </p><p>Neither of them reacted to Kevin’s “What the fuck!?” at their impromptu and utterly unorthodox match of high-powered exy-tennis, and neither of them broke eye contact once as the game dragged out until Neil seemed to finally fucking get out of his head and back into his body. It was probably only the matter of a couple of minutes, and Andrew had no illusions that the idiot was completely settled - but he stopped trying to fucking exorcise himself using the damn court as his ritual. </p><p>When Neil caught the next volley with a hard nod and instead passed it rapidly to Kevin, Andrew accepted it. </p><p>Kevin wasn’t so willing to let it go, and after he took his shot he whirled on Neil. “What the <i>fuck</i> was that? We’re in the middle of- fuck!” Andrew was already scooping up the ball he’d just ricocheted off of Kevin’s helmet and aimed the next shot for the taller striker’s shins. </p><p>“Fuck! Andrew! Knock it off!”</p><p>Dan, apparently not <i>utterly</i> incapable of reading a room, hurriedly scooped up the ball and looked between him, Kevin, and Neil, who was catching his breath now while stretching his striking arm across his body in a way that had Andrew wondering if the idiot had ended up pushing too hard anyway.</p><p>“Hey, hey, it’s fine. Look, let’s just get back to practice, yeah? We’ve only got a little bit of time left.” Dan didn’t really look like she believed it was ‘fine’ any more than the rest of them did when it was Neil to utter the word, but she was willing to stand her ground.</p><p>“It is <i>not</i> fine!” Kevin whined with all the composure of a six-foot-tall three-year-old. He even stomped his foot. </p><p>“Look, Kevin, you can spend the rest of practice harping on this, or we can get back to it.” There was a reason Dan was the captain of this shitshow, he had to give her that - even if he was still pissed off at her and the rest of them.</p><p>Kevin made a sound like a beehive in a woodchipper and turned on his heel. When Dan turned next to him, Andrew met her gaze steadily, his expression blank behind his helmet. </p><p>“All good? Anything I need to know?” When Andrew didn’t so much as blink in response, she just shook her head and turned back to her team to rally them for the rest of practice. They didn’t end up finishing the scrimmage and instead Dan broke them up into sets to run drills in stations around the court. She didn’t bother to reprimand him when he didn’t participate in any of them, and that was really in her best interest because while Neil seemed to be a little more settled, Andrew was still riding high on the idea of murder and he’d used up his patience for the day. </p><p>At the end of practice, Dan set them to run around the outer court as a cool down. Neil smoothly avoided Kevin by breaking off to run the stadium steps instead, and Andrew knew that he’d continue to do so even after practice was called to a stop so that he could be the last one into the locker room and avoid any attempted conversations. Andrew didn’t bother running at all and instead walked slowly out of the way of everyone else. </p><p>He wasn’t surprised when Renee fell into step beside him, and he wasn’t as annoyed by it as he thought he would be, either. </p><p>She didn’t say anything for the first lap, but when they passed Neil on the second she turned her head to watch him run. Something angry and protective welled up inside him and he wanted to shove Renee to the ground for looking at him, for prying into his retreat with curious eyes when everyone was so fucking clueless as to what happened on the court today.</p><p>As if she could feel his anger from the heft of his gaze, Renee shifted her attention to him. Normally, he appreciated Renee’s ability to handle the truth of him. It was… not reassuring, not exactly comfortable, but more something less grating than what he got from everyone else - to know that she respected what he was and didn’t fear him any more or less than what his actual potential was. Today it felt like a challenge, and he stopped walking to face her, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He was itching for a fucking fight, and Renee was honestly one of the better targets out there for his rage, considering she would actually be able to hold her own and it wouldn’t be over before it even began. </p><p>Renee must have seen the genuine threat of violence in his posture because she also stopped with him and took half a step back, lifting her hands half-way in silent surrender. She waited while he decided what to do about it, and when he turned to start walking again, she fell in step beside him. It was another lap of them walking before practice was called to an end and everyone made for the locker room. Only when they moved to trail after the others (except Neil, who no one had bothered to try and call down) did Renee speak. </p><p>“He’s lucky he’s got you, Andrew. I’m very grateful that you can be there for him.”</p><p>Andrew eyed her, then shrugged. </p><p>“Is there anything I can do to help?”</p><p>He appreciated that she didn’t ask what was going on, that she didn’t try to assume she would or could understand even if she knew. Good little Christian Renee, and a secret part of him didn’t even mean that sarcastically. He’d known Renee long enough by now to believe her intentions and value her intellect. She didn’t try to make it about her or turn it into her business - she just acknowledged the truth as she saw it and then offered her hand in genuine fucking <i>care</i>.</p><p>If it were anyone else, he’d probably tell them to just fuck off - but he trusted Renee, and he believed her. </p><p>“He needs a little space,” he answered as honestly as he could without violating Neil’s privacy. Neil had told him that talking was hard today - and as far as he could tell, he hadn’t gifted anyone else with that insight. He didn’t know if things would be resolved by tomorrow or if this was something that would drag out, or if it would start to become something that happened from time to time. He didn’t <i>know</i>, and still didn’t know what the fuck to do about it - even if he was coming to terms with the simple but uncomfortable truth that whatever it was that Neil needed, he wanted to be able to provide it. </p><p>Renee didn’t ask for clarification, and she didn’t press for more details. She only nodded and gave him a small smile. “I’ll make sure the others don’t bother him.”</p><p>Andrew only nodded and hung back as Renee slipped into the locker room. He watched her go, then changed direction and sat down in the bottom row of the stadium to wait for Neil.</p><p>He didn’t have to wait long. When Neil noticed him waiting, he headed his way, no longer running the steps. He scooped up his helmet where he’d deposited it and then came over to sink into the seat next to Andrew. There was a tiredness about him that irritated Andrew, but he didn’t comment on it and instead just stared steadily at his stupid little rabbit until the man sighed and tilted his head back in what Andrew chose to accept as an admission of his own stupidity. </p><p>“Don’t do that again,” Andrew admonished into the quiet stadium, keeping his tone flat and even. He didn’t want Neil to know the rage that still bubbled in his chest. He didn’t want him to know the worry that burrowed like a cancerous root even deeper beneath it. “You’ll hurt yourself.” He tried to stop himself from saying it - not because it wasn’t true or because it was an unfair accusation (it was totally fucking fair) but because it revealed too much about his motivations and he <i>hated hated hated</i> that. It was becoming easier and easier to fail at hiding from Neil, though, and that made him hate <i>him</i> even more.</p><p>Neil turned his head to look at him, and after a long moment of weighted silence, he nodded.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and Andrew nearly jolted at the sound of his voice - soft and rough but not strained or forced. He ground his teeth against the conflicting waves of <i>too much feeling</i> that crested behind his lungs. Fuck, this stupid rabbit was going to drown it and he didn’t even <i>know</i>, the bastard.</p><p>“Don’t fucking apologize. Just don’t do it again.”</p><p>Again, Neil nodded. He didn’t say anything else. </p><p>They sat there for a little while in silence - until Neil felt ready and Andrew’s inner tempest had settled into something more manageable. Then they went into the locker room together. Nicky had left a note that the rest of them were catching a ride back to Fox Tower with the others, so they took their time showering in separate stalls right next to each other. Neil finished first, and Andrew purposefully took more time so that Neil would have a chance to dry off and get dressed alone. He didn’t want to see Neil shy away from him again and he wasn’t sure he could keep himself from asking about it if he did. Even thinking about it twisted something ugly and hateful in his gut, and he just didn’t have the energy to fucking deal with that tonight. </p><p>When they got back to the dorm, the room was almost conspicuously empty but Andrew was too fucking grateful he didn’t have to put up with Nicky or Kevin being nosy fucking idiots to wonder at how Renee had managed to pull it off. Neil shot him a curious look and Andrew only shrugged as he kicked off his shoes and moved to sit on the couch. </p><p>He could feel Neil watching him, could feel the blanket of his stare, but he didn’t turn his head to meet it - didn’t challenge it or tell him to stop and he only looked over when he heard the fridge open and shut again.</p><p>He did <i>not</i> acknowledge the flutter of something that wasn’t nothing in his chest when he saw Neil walking toward him with a pint of ice cream in one hand and two spoons in the other. Instead, he rose a brow and held out his hand. “Bold of you to assume I’m going to share with your troublesome ass, junkie,” he said with a nod toward the two spoons. </p><p>Neil shot him a cheeky grin and sat down beside him, taking the middle seat of the couch but keeping two inches of comfortable space between them - always so fucking mindful of Andrew’s boundaries.</p><p>Andrew didn’t comment on it as he rolled the pint between his palms to soften it. He remained quiet as they ate the ice cream (well, as Andrew ate the ice cream - Neil had a whole two bites and Andrew secretly resolved to work on his sugar tolerance because that was just not acceptable), as much because he didn’t feel like saying anything as because there was a steady weight to their otherwise comfortable silence that told Andrew that Neil was thinking about something and he didn’t want to interrupt him. So he ate his ice cream and left Neil to his musing, keeping his own thoughts contained to the two-inch gap between them as he tried to decide whether he was grateful for it or if he wished it wasn’t there at all. </p><p>This time, he didn’t jolt when Neil spoke. “It does bother me,” the junkie said quietly. There was a light tension to his tone and Andrew knew that it was taking him some effort to push the words out - but nothing like it had been earlier this afternoon with that one achingly panicked <i>’Stay.’</i> It took him only a moment to connect the admission to his own words earlier that afternoon.</p><p>
  <i>’If it bothers you, then we’ll find a way around it. If not, then I won’t bring it up again. You don’t owe shit to anyone, Neil. Least of all to me.’</i>
</p><p>Andrew looked up at him and hummed thoughtfully around another bite of ice cream. He didn’t ask for details, because he knew Neil couldn’t give them, not yet - and he wasn’t willing to ask for what Neil wasn’t willing or able to give. “Then we’ll find a way around it,” he said instead with a shrug. He didn’t ask if Neil thought that this would be happening again. Clearly, if he was bringing it up now in this way - he did.</p><p>Neil nodded, but Andrew didn’t like the way his shoulders hunched or the guilty way he looked away. With a scowl, he reached over and hovered a chilly hand by Neil’s chin, waiting for the other to look at him with a flick of those blue eyes before he touched him. Normally, this wasn’t a touch he’d ask for - but given the two inches between them and the rabbit’s shyness today he didn’t want to push things. When Neil didn’t jerk away, Andrew tightened his grip and made him look at him straight on. </p><p>“I meant it when I said that you don’t owe shit to anyone, Neil. Honestly, the fact that your precious little Foxes are being such obtuse morons bothers me a fuck of a lot more than your silences.” He rolled his eyes when Neil glared at him for the slight aimed at the Foxes, but since Neil didn’t call him out on it other than the sharp look he more or less ignored it. “That being said, it’s amusing as fuck to watch you tear the shit out of them and everyone else - even when you’re being stupid about it - and it’ll at least give me something to do to help you figure out how to do that even on days where words are being dickheads, okay?” He was rewarded with a huff that he knew was a laugh only because he could feel the twitch of Neil’s jaw as it resisted a smile in his grasp.</p><p>He hesitated a moment, and later he would blame the skin-to-skin contact as an influence for the weakness of him offering an unasked-for truth of his own - because he was also beginning to realize that he got a little stupid when it came to Neil and touch and having that soft, trusting, vulnerable look on that stupid face directed at him. </p><p>“Besides,” he heard himself say, “I’ve been meaning to learn a new language. There’s that one with all hand gestures and shit, right? It could be something for us. Nicky and Aaron know German, and they don’t need to know what we say every minute of the fucking day.”</p><p>Neil’s eyes widened in the exact same expression he’d worn earlier today in the library, when Andrew had apologized to him. What the fuck was wrong with him that he was cracking himself open like this for this stupid fucking rabbit not once, but over and fucking over again in the same fucking <i>day?</i> He gritted his teeth and started to drop his hand, ready to backpedal, ready to tell him to fuck off and forget he said anything, to claim he was drunk or that Neil was fucking stupid or--</p><p>Neil’s hand caught his and brought it back up. He pressed it to his cheek so firmly that Andrew could feel the scars of his burn push soft valleys into his palm. Those too-blue eyes captured his, held him hostage against way too much knowing, and Andrew felt his own breath catch and trip on the embers left over from that gaze. He didn’t need a verbal question to understand the way Neil tore his eyes away from his only long enough to look at his lips before locking them back into that stare. He’d seen the fire in those eyes enough times by now to know what it meant, and he felt the <i>yes yes yes</i> in the lean and tilt of his idiot’s body as he tugged him closer.</p><p>Andrew didn’t realize how much he had been craving the touch of Neil’s mouth until he finally had the taste of it again, and fuck it - his paper lungs never stood a fucking chance. He was burning up from the inside, and he didn’t need Neil’s words when he could have that flutter of a moan buzzing against his lips instead. All they did was kiss, their only points of contact their mouths and Andrew’s hand on Neil’s cheek, the striker’s own hand curled over it. When the kiss broke to allow them each some panted gasps of breath, Andrew noted that Neil had shoved his other hand under his own thigh <i>so that he wouldn’t touch</i> and something choked and shuttered tumbled around in his chest. He kissed him again, hard, and wasn’t willing to pull fully away when that one, too, ended in a strangled need for air. </p><p>They caught their breath together, slowly, sharing quiet gasps with their foreheads resting lightly against each other. Andrew didn’t realize he was stroking his thumb over Neil’s scar until the other man hummed in contentment and leaned into the touch. </p><p>Thinking was dangerous right now, Andrew knew that, and so he didn’t think. He thinned the contents of his mind down to the here and now, to the sensations under his hand and the buzzing in his lips. It was easy to do when Neil was in front of him like this, when he was all but purring from a simple touch, so at ease and so comfortable, so trusting and warm as the subject of Andrew’s attention. He felt invincible like this, and it was an addicting feeling.</p><p>He was tempted to push Neil down onto the couch, wanted to know if a bit of stroking other places on his body could get him purring even more for him - but a greater part of him was so achingly <i>content</i> that he didn’t move. </p><p>Andrew didn’t know how long they stayed like that until the twitch of the lock announced the return of their roommates, but there was no awkwardness when they pulled apart. They didn’t rush, didn’t try to conceal what they’d been doing, but it was none of Nicky or Kevin’s business and Andrew at least was territorial of Neil’s vulnerability and defensive of his own. By the time the door opened and the other two walked in, Andrew had stood to take the empty carton to the trash and Neil had taken charge of the spoons.</p><p>Nicky looked between the two of them, trying to read their moods. Andrew wasn’t sure <i>what</i> the hapless idiot thought he saw, but whatever it was seemed to perk him up, because he was grinning. Andrew pointed a finger at him that Nicky was really rather lucky wasn’t a knife. </p><p>“Don’t,” he warned, then turned and stalked to the bedroom. He ignored Nicky’s whining, but allowed himself the settled feeling that wormed its way through his ribcage when he heard Neil’s soft voice, still a little tight and still uncharacteristically hesitant in execution - but strong enough to fill the space.</p><p>“Hey guys. I’m going to head to bed now. Goodnight.”</p><p>That settled feeling remained as Neil followed him into the bedroom once Andrew was already up in his own loft. It was still there as the day caught up with him, and Andrew let it lull him to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was going to include Bee in this chapter, but it ended up getting way longer than I expected once we got into practice again so I decided to split it up. Bee is coming up next, I promise! Again, I appreciate you all so so much and I hope you've enjoyed this second part of 'say something'.</p><p>Also, in case it seems like a weird leap fo Andrew to be like "ok let's learn sign language" I based the willingness/thought on some of the extra content where it's said that they learn Russian together. I liked the idea of *Andrew* being the one to want something special with the two of them, their own language, and he's an efficient sort of guy so I mean, two birds ~ one stone? I'm sorry if it seems weird ^^;</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Andrew spends Wednesday morning in the gym with the team, then with Neil in the dorm, before heading to his appointment with Bee.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Things I’ve learned while writing this fic:<br/>1. I am a <i>s l u t</i> for Domestic!Andriel.<br/>2. It’s okay for your “deleted scenes” document to be just as long as the actual fic itself.<br/>3. It is absolutely possible to cry more than five times in a 6-hour time period. Seriously, your comments and kudos and acknowledgment and validation means literally everything. I’m floored. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you. All those parts you love? I love them too SO MUCH and it makes me feel so seen to know that you love them too. </p>
<p>This chapter got a little long, sorry ^//^ I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Andrew really did not appreciate waking up with a hangover after a night of not drinking, but that’s exactly what it felt like when he woke up the next day. It wasn’t even a full headache, but more a bastardization that left him feeling like he’d either gotten too little sleep or too much. He hated the sluggish din that affected all of his senses in place of the pain, and spent several minutes marinating in his bad mood before he could rummage up the energy to even dig around in his blankets for his phone to see what time it was. </p>
<p>This turned out to be an unnecessary endeavor, as Kevin’s alarm started blaring before he even fully wrapped his fingers around the skin-warm plastic. </p>
<p>Oh, <i>there</i> was the headache. He took back his internal bitching. Today was going to fucking suck. </p>
<p>“Ugh… K’vin… t’rn it <i>ooooooff,</i>” came Nicky’s muffled moan from the loft above the all-but-hibernating striker. When he got no answer and the alarm kept shrieking, he tried to smack him with a pillow but the angle was bad and it ended up dropping uselessly to the ground. </p>
<p>Andrew shoved his face into his mattress and slammed his own pillow over his head. He was going to kill Kevin. Slowly. And he’d start by bashing his face into a million little pieces with that annoying as fuck alarm clock that he <i>insisted</i> on using because the shrill squall of it was the only thing that could penetrate his unconscious state. Except for when it fucking didn’t. Which was at least three times a fucking week. </p>
<p>Andrew dimly heard the bedroom door open and when he peeked over he saw a familiar tangle of reddish curls float past. The alarm shut off, then there was a sudden grunt as Neil picked up Nicky’s dropped pillow and nailed Kevin in the face with it. The smaller striker ignored the familiar whines of semi-conscious protest as Kevin dragged himself awake, instead checking to see that Nicky and then Andrew were awake. </p>
<p>Not for the first time, he wondered why the fuck they had to put up with Kevin Day’s alarm when Neil up-at-the-asscrack-of-dawn Josten always ended up getting them all up anyway. He’d much rather wake up to Neil than Kevin’s bullshit. The times that Neil got them up without the alarm were a hell of a lot fucking calmer and his impulse to murder first thing in the morning was more manageable. </p>
<p>When Neil woke them up, he usually threw something at Kevin. Nicky he’d shake, since the ridiculous man was probably the only conventional sleeper among them. And for Andrew…</p>
<p>Andrew kept his eyes closed as he waited for a moment, knowing that Neil would be checking to see if he was awake next, and… there, a gentle rapping on the bedpost, followed by a tug on the corner of the blanket. Andrew was typically a light sleeper and often reacted violently to being woken. He also did not like to be touched. These were all known things. So Neil had worked out a system and it worked. He liked being woken up by Neil.</p>
<p>
  <i>What the actual fuck, no. No. Not going there.</i>
</p>
<p>Andrew scowled at himself at the thought and took it out on Neil by leveling him with a burning glare as he peeled his eyes open. “I hate you,” he growled, his voice raspy.</p>
<p>“There’s coffee.” Chipper little morning fuck had no right to be so amused, even if he couldn’t possibly have known what Andrew had been just thinking about. Andrew rebelled by burrowing himself back under the blankets to the sound of Neil’s retreating footsteps. He was heavily considering skipping morning practice entirely when Kevin finally dragged his ass out of bed, barking orders about like he actually had control over something. </p>
<p>“Come on, we have to go to practice.” There was a yelp as he did something to Nicky. Andrew didn’t care what it was until his blankets were suddenly jerked off of him, as well, and the unasked question was thus answered. “Now! We can’t be late!”</p>
<p>Andrew sat up slowly, knife in hand. “Can’t be late if you’re dead, Day.” </p>
<p>Kevin looked from the knife to Andrew’s face and back again, taking half a step back - smart considering the tall fuck was at the perfect height to lose an eyeball with little to no effort on Andrew’s part. “Sorry. But we need to hurry. We missed out on practice time last night and I won’t have us dick around today.”</p>
<p>Then, before Andrew had the time to test out his eyeball-retrieving skills, the striker was heading to the bathroom to get ready. Andrew scowled at the coward’s retreat, then flopped back onto his pillow.</p>
<p>Nicky handed him his blanket in a peace offering and Andrew accepted, if only because Nicky had the damn decency not to try to talk to him. </p>
<p>Really, the only thing at this point that kept him from sulking in his bed and making them all late out of spite was the fact that he knew if he didn’t get out there and get a cup of coffee before Kevin-fucking-Day finished his first cup, the dickwad would end up finishing it off and Andrew hated waiting for coffee to brew more than he hated waiting for most other things. </p>
<p>When he was up and dressed he found the others in the kitchen - sitting or leaning in various states of alertness. While Neil was apparently drinking tea today, the rest were nursing cups of coffee - even Aaron, and the fact that he was drinking from one of Kevin’s mugs meant that he’d mooched off of their coffee again instead of making his own in his own fucking room with his own fucking perfectly-in-order coffeemaker. </p>
<p>Aaron looked over as if he could sense his twin’s glare, and he clearly knew the cause instantly because he looked down at his coffee before scowling back at Andrew. “Matt got up before me. He always makes it too fucking weak.”</p>
<p>“Does it look like I give a shit?” Andrew drawled as he made his way to the counter. He picked up the coffee pot and almost threw it at Aaron’s head. Fucking empty. </p>
<p>A shift of movement caught his eye then and he looked over to watch as Neil pushed a mug his way. The color of the coffee was a milksweet mocha and it smelled like a Snickers bar coated in espresso. He glared sharply at the idiot striker for the audacity, but he needed coffee too badly at this point to refuse on principle. </p>
<p>“One hundred and twenty-three percent, Josten.” The words came out as little more than a growl. Neil only shrugged, and Andrew took a deep drink of coffee as an excuse not to watch the way his idiot’s eyes warmed and his mouth softened <i>like that</i>. There were way too many people in this kitchen right now. Way too many people in the fucking <i>world</i>, for that matter. Weren’t they due for some kind of cataclysmic event or something by now? Andrew silently put in his vote for a meteor. Palmetto seemed like a pretty decent crash site. </p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>The coffee had done its job, along with some hastily made but relatively edible eggs that they’d all scarfed down before heading to practice. Andrew’s not-a-hangover was more or less gone, and with its retreat brought the reminder of the general clusterfuck that was yesterday. He supposed the coffee was an extension of Neil’s apology for the shit he pulled at practice the night before, or maybe it was the silly little rabbit’s attempt to get ahead of the game in case he decided to do something stupid again today, too. </p>
<p>Thankfully, morning practice on Wednesdays was held at the gym rather than the court, which meant that a certain junkie was less likely to do something stupid before lunch. The talking thing was still a <i>thing</i> today, though it seemed to be to a different degree than yesterday. Neil didn’t say anything to him about it, but he didn’t have to when Andrew could see the tension down the line of his throat all the way across the weight room as he and Matt chatted through their warm-up. </p>
<p>Well, Matt was doing most of the chatting. Neil did respond a little. He was clearly engaged in the conversation, there was just that tension in his throat, and he kept lightly scratching at it, as if he could dig the words out that he wanted to say. It got worse whenever that overgrown fucking puppy seemed to get excited and talk louder or more quickly, then relaxed during the natural silences as they moved from one thing to another. </p>
<p>He really needed to get looking into that sign language shit. Then he’d be able to tell Neil from across the room to just punch Matt in the mouth when he was getting to be too much. Surely if he did it enough times he’d eventually get it through his thick skull to calm the fuck down. </p>
<p>Andrew allowed himself a soft snort at the idiot junkie’s expense, then focused on his own workout. He actually didn’t mind the gym sessions all that much. Saying that he enjoyed them would be a bit of a stretch, but he appreciated the healthy ache in his muscles that came with the physical effort. It was different than being run ragged around the court, and he much preferred the steady control he had over his routine when it came to the various machines and equipment that he was able to utilize when he was in the gym. People also generally left him alone throughout his workout. Sometimes he and Aaron would team up, spotting each other or working quietly nearby. It was one of the only times that he genuinely didn’t mind his twin’s company. </p>
<p>That, he supposed, was one thing that had come from their joint sessions with Bee. It had been her suggestion that they work out together, even if they didn’t talk through it. </p>
<p>At the end of the workout, they even nodded amicably at each other before going their separate ways to shower and get dressed for class. They even <i>fist-bumped</i>. Bee would be so proud. If Andrew were the type of person to be optimistic, he might think that this was a sign of good things to come. Neil seemed to be handling things well enough. No one was overtly bothering him. He and Aaron were getting along. </p>
<p>“Aaron.” They were sitting on one of the couches in the lounge, waiting for the rest of their group to finish up so they could head to campus. His twin looked at him with a wary frown that Andrew supposed was more or less valid - it wasn’t like Andrew often instigated conversation with him, and when he did it wasn’t usually anything positive. </p>
<p>“What?” he asked in a guarded tone that matched his expression.</p>
<p>“I’m having a solo session today. Find something else to do with your afternoon.”</p>
<p>Well, that had a fucking effect. Andrew was still in a gracious enough mood to be amused rather than annoyed at the way Aaron instantly stiffened and got all fucking offended.</p>
<p>“You can’t--”</p>
<p>“Ah,” he held up a finger. “Actually, I fucking <i>can</i>. You crashed <i>my</i> party, remember? And I’ve been humoring you because after two years with Bee I usually don’t have anything better to do with my time there.” This was a gross oversimplification of Andrew’s own motivations, but Aaron hadn’t earned an explanation so he sure as fuck wasn’t getting one.</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” spat Aaron imaginatively. Andrew didn’t bother to roll his eyes and just stared at him impassively as his twin ranted on. “No. I’m going to fucking be there. I promised Katelyn we’d figure our shit out and that won’t happen if you start canceling just because you’re getting bored or whatever. That’s not how this works.”</p>
<p>Andrew <i>did</i> roll his eyes this time. “I’m not canceling you shithead. You’re just not going to be there today. Go cry on your cheerleader for an hour instead.”</p>
<p>“Tell me why.” The entitled demand in his brother’s tone had his anger waking, the amusement swiftly draining to make room for the sharper and far more familiar emotion.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Aaron made a scraping, buzzing sort of a growl. His jaw clenched and Andrew saw the muscles in his arms bunch as he curled his hands into fists. “Really?” he gritted out. “All of this, fucking months of these sessions, and you still can’t tell me shit? What, are you fighting with your little fuckboy or--”</p>
<p><i>“Don’t.”</i> This time it was Andrew growling. His whole world narrowed down to the man across from him and the anger sharpened like a blade in his chest. Even he wasn’t sure if that blade was aimed inward or toward his brother, the hilt burned just as viciously as the point. “This is why I don’t tell you shit. <i>This.</i> Because you don’t fucking <i>listen</i>. I’ve already warned you to knock that shit off.” The complexities of his… <i>whatever</i> with Neil were no one else’s fucking business, least of all his judgemental ass of a so-called brother. Especially not today. Not when he was planning to actually talk about <i>that</i> with Bee. Aaron was far off to assume they were fighting, but he hit way too close to home to jump right to Neil being the reason why after months of putting up with Aaron in his sessions he would now be kicking him out for a solo session. He should have just fucking scheduled an extra session, but no - he and Aaron had been getting along today so he’d gotten overconfident. Fuck if he’d ever make that mistake again. </p>
<p>Aaron snorted. “Right. Come on, Andrew. You’re really going to tell me that this isn’t about Neil after that weird thing last night?”</p>
<p>Andrew bristled. “I’m not telling you shit.”</p>
<p>“Whose not telling who what now?” Nicky was strolling over to them, grinning lightly - like his cousins were merely having a debate about where to eat for dinner. </p>
<p>There was a heavy, tense moment of silence. Hazel bore into hazel as Andrew challenged his brother with his stare, as he fucking <i>dared</i> him to bring Nicky into this. </p>
<p>“Nothing.” The word was bit out angrily, in a harsh gust that illustrated Aaron’s feelings on the matter better than if he’d stomped his foot. </p>
<p>Far from satisfied, even if he’d gotten what he’d wanted, Andrew ignored his twin’s temper tantrum to push to his feet and head for the doors. </p>
<p>“Hey! Where are you going? The others aren’t done yet!” Nicky called after him, but he didn’t stop walking.</p>
<p>“I need a fucking cigarette,” he grumbled out only so that he wouldn’t be followed. He needed a few minutes to calm down and he wouldn’t get that with Nicky buzzing in his ear. </p>
<p>“Those really aren’t good for you, you know!” Nicky called after him.</p>
<p>Andrew flipped him off over his shoulder.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Aaron didn’t say anything else to him as they headed back to Fox Tower. He scurried off to his classes without confirming whether or not he would be showing up for the session that afternoon, which was fine with Andrew. If he showed up, he’d just have to deal with not being let in because he knew that Bee wasn’t going to put up with his shit either if Andrew said that he didn’t want him there. Sure, she’d do it without the knives, but they’d get the same result so Andrew would just let her handle it.</p>
<p>At the beginning of the semester, Andrew had very purposefully designed his Wednesdays. He had no classes on Wednesdays, so his only actual obligations for the day were practices and his standing appointment with Bee. This gave him time to get any assignments done that he needed to get done, and it also gave him a scheduled break from bullshit right in the middle of the week. </p>
<p>Wednesday mornings were particularly therapeutic because almost everyone else <i>did</i> have a morning class. The only other person who didn’t, was Neil. </p>
<p>This meant that every Wednesday after their morning workout with the team, he and Neil would be the only ones in their room - usually the only ones on the entire floor. It was peaceful. Alright, so it was also a very opportune time to push Neil down to the floor, or against a wall, or onto the couch, and kiss him until they were both struggling to remember the exact mechanics behind breathing. </p>
<p>The spat with Aaron had pissed him off enough that he wasn’t in a kissing mood, which really only served to piss him off even more. He didn’t want Aaron to have <i>any</i> influence on what he and Neil did together, but that didn’t change the truth. </p>
<p>Andrew skipped going to their dorm and headed right up to the roof for another cigarette and by the time he finally made his way down about fifteen minutes later the only one left in their suite was Neil. Neil had set himself up on the floor in front of the couch, various study materials pouring haphazardly out of his backpack and some kind of a math book open in his lap. Andrew knew that he had picked up on his mood already, but even when he was feeling up to talking Neil always knew better than to press - especially about the tension between him and his brother. He knew that Neil had his own issues with Aaron and he had no intention to interfere there, either. If Neil wanted to bring him into it, he would. Until then, it was none of his business. </p>
<p>Why the fuck couldn’t <i>Aaron</i> wrap his head around that simple fucking concept?</p>
<p>Andrew more or less threw himself onto the couch with a sigh, and Neil turned to look at him with a raised brow. </p>
<p>“Aaron is an asshole,” Andrew grumbled in explanation, choosing not to question why he was so willing to explain himself to the striker when he hadn’t even asked a fucking question. Neil was literally the easiest person to ignore, especially with his struggle with words the last couple of days. So why the fuck did Andrew seem to find it so fucking <i>impossible</i> not to interact with him?</p>
<p>(He knew the answer to this. He was having a solo meeting with Bee today <i>literally because of this</i>. He was still going to act like it was utterly befuddling because he was going to resist admitting anything to himself until he absolutely had no choice. It was really just his <i>way</i> at this point, and every second he spent avoiding that fucking… fucking <i>softness</i> was another moment he could pretend he was untouchable.)</p>
<p>Neil was nodding in agreement, his expression almost amused. <i>And you’re just realizing this?</i> the tilt of his head seemed to tease. Andrew hated that he wanted to kiss him for it.</p>
<p>Instead, he snorted and reached out, forcibly turning his face to make him look back down at his math book. Neil was sitting on the floor in front of the middle cushion, so it was an easy reach from the corner Andrew had claimed with his dramatics. “Shut up,” he grumbled, despite the fact that Neil hadn’t actually said anything. He heard Neil huff a laugh in response, likely because he’d just had the same thought, and Andrew felt his mouth twitch.</p>
<p>Since he didn’t have the patience for schoolwork right then and was still too irritated to retreat to the bedroom for a nap, Andrew decided to do a bit of research. He left the couch for long enough to grab his laptop off the desk by the back window before reclaiming his seat, this time leaning back against the arm of the couch so his legs could take up the rest of it since Neil seemed happy enough on the floor. </p>
<p>The first thing he learned was that the sign language thing he’d been thinking about was called ASL, American Sign Language. There was also a British Sign Language that showed up in the Google search, and he guessed there was probably a sign language for a bunch of other countries too. Tempting as it was to suggest that he and Neil learn DGS, the German signing language, it was just more useful for them to know ASL while living in America, so he bookmarked that as a potential later project for after he and Neil mastered ASL (because why the fuck not).</p>
<p>The second thing he learned was how to say “fuck you” in ASL. Turned out he already knew that one, imagine that. </p>
<p>Andrew let himself get sucked down the rabbit hole of his research for a while. He made a folder on his bookmarks bar where he saved links to potential online courses and programs and another one for websites that were just study resources. Online dictionaries, phrase references, that sort of stuff. Once he’d been through everything that had potential to be useful, he opened up the folder of potential learning programs and read through each one until he had it narrowed down to the ones that looked the most promising. It distantly occurred to him to look into whether there were any available courses at PSU, but he discarded the idea before it fully formed. The semester was already underway, and he figured that he and Neil would be able to pick it up faster on their own anyway. </p>
<p>A soft huff pulled him out of his research after a while and he looked over at the source, raising a brow to see Neil leaning his head back onto the cushion, trying with minimal success to blow his unruly bangs out of his eyes. He could easily lift his damn hand to move them, but his idiot really didn’t know how to do anything the easy way. </p>
<p>Without even really thinking about it, Andrew reached out and brushed the hair away from his eyes. He still didn’t think about it as he ran his fingers through the soft reddish curls. “You need a haircut,” he complained instead. </p>
<p>Neil just hummed and closed his eyes, shifting slightly and leaning into the touch. Andrew continued to stroke his hair. It was too easy not to overthink things when he was touching Neil. Looking at him, talking to him, thinking about him, sure - those were all positioned along a very precarious edge that could lead him to all sorts of avenues he was generally obsessive about avoiding. But touching him? There was nothing easier in the whole of the world than that.</p>
<p>“I found some ASL courses and a bunch of websites we can poke around on. Some decent youtube channels, too.” He kept his hand moving as he spoke. “We’ve both got Wednesdays more or less free, so we can practice and shit together for a while each week, then fit in a couple of lessons on our own time each week.” He felt Neil’s nod rather than saw it because he’d gone back to flicking through his bookmarks with his free hand. He copied them over into an email that he shot off to Neil so he’d have the same links he did in case he wanted to do his work in the library like he usually did. It was really high time that Neil got a fucking laptop or something. Maybe this would give him a push to do it. </p>
<p>Neil made another soft humming sound and shifted closer, turning his body to the side and facing Andrew more so he could look up at him more easily. Andrew let him look. It didn’t frustrate him as much when his hand was in Neil’s hair - like his rabbit was a touchstone, some kind of talisman that kept the world from closing in. When he touched Neil, everything else became muted. Distantly, Andrew wondered if this was what peace felt like, and after a few long minutes like that he made a decision. </p>
<p>“Come on, you’re done with your math homework,” he said with a sigh as he closed his laptop and set it on the floor, then sat up and pivoted on the couch to make space. He gave Neil’s hair a light tug and patted the cushion next to him. </p>
<p>His expression curious, Neil obeyed and got up. Andrew let his hand slip free from his hair as he moved to take the seat beside him. He ignored the flutter in his stomach when his stupid, sweet, overly-considerate little idiot preserved that space between them even now. They’d just been touching, Andrew had clearly invited him to sit next to him, but Neil didn’t assume that meant he could touch him. He never, ever took more than what he was permitted - even if others might have considered it a logical concession. That cemented his decision.</p>
<p>“Lay down.” He patted his thigh, offering it up as a pillow. </p>
<p>Neil blinked at him, then pointed to his head and drew a line in the air to where Andrew had indicated. Andrew rolled his eyes. “Yes, you idiot. With your head on my lap. If you want to.” He waited with a blank stare to Neil to make up his mind, absolutely refusing to fidget. He also refused to acknowledge the fluttery feeling that moved from his stomach up to his chest at the smile he got in answer. </p>
<p><i>Delighted,</i> his mind supplied. Neil’s delighted smile showed off the dimple on his left cheek. Neil’s delighted smile looked like it should taste like strawberry ice cream. </p>
<p>“Don’t look at me like that. Idiot.” Andrew snorted and reached up, cupping a hand behind Neil’s head and tugging him down. It took a moment for them to figure out the best way to situate themselves, but eventually Andrew pulled the lever on the side of the couch to pull up the footrest and curled his opposite ankle under the knee of the leg Neil was using as a pillow. Neil ended up on his side, hips twisted slightly forward with one knee up and the other leg straight, his arms curled near his chest. It was similar to how he slept, but Andrew wasn’t going to admit that he knew Neil’s favorite sleeping positions because that made it seem like he watched Neil when he slept when he <i>didn’t</i>, he just <i>noticed</i> things. </p>
<p>Once he was comfortable, Neil let out a soft sigh and Andrew’s hand found it’s way back into his hair, slowly stroking and occasionally scratching lightly over his scalp. He tried to pretend he wasn’t drinking up the little sighs and hums of contentment his rabbit let loose every once in a while, and he turned on the tv in an attempt to help with the endeavor. After flicking through channels he finally settled on Food Network. There was a Hell’s Kitchen marathon running and Andrew could appreciate Gordon Ramsay’s approach to idiocy. </p>
<p>It was at the end of the first episode that Andrew realized Neil had fallen asleep. The credits were rolling as the screen broke into two, the next episode queuing up while the ending one finished out in a smaller box down in the corner, and Andrew looked down to make a comment about who he thought was going to get axed when he saw that Neil’s eyes were closed, his expression peaceful, his breathing deep. </p>
<p>All words, all notions of speech, vanished from his lips. </p>
<p>It seemed like a simple, nonconsequential thing at first. To anyone else, they probably wouldn’t think of it. But to Andrew, Neil falling asleep on him in the middle of the day, in such an open space where anyone could walk in and anything could happen was such an incredible show of trust everything else just… <i>stopped.</i> His hand froze and Neil still didn’t wake. He brushed his thumb over his cheek and Neil only sighed and settled deeper. It wasn’t a restless doze like when he was overly exhausted after an away game and crashed on the bus - which was the only time Andrew had ever seen Neil fall asleep in the open like this. This was different. This was Neil feeling so stupidly fucking <i>secure</i> that he’d drifted off to sleep without even fucking realizing it, just because he was comfortable. </p>
<p>He had to take a slow breath to force oxygen shakily into his lungs, and he found himself doing so as quietly as possible, suddenly desperate not to wake the gift cradled against his hip.</p>
<p>Neil and himself had lead very different lives, but they’d both grown up in a constant state of fear. They were both defensive creatures now, molded and crafted into sharp, angry things meant to cause as much damage as possible to anyone who dared hurt them (again). They’d both learned how to protect their own vulnerabilities to a fault, and had developed certain habits that even the relative safety of their lives now couldn’t easily break. Not falling asleep in the open was one of those habits - and yet here he was, passed out and sleeping easily with his head on Andrew’s lap. Trusting him not to hurt him. Trusting him to keep him safe. </p>
<p>Andrew took another slow breath and tilted his head back against the back of the couch, mentally telling himself to <i>get a fucking grip</i>, then he looked back down and resumed lightly running his fingers through Neil’s hair as the next episode started up. Gordon Ramsay axed the person Andrew had predicted, and Neil was a comfortable weight against his leg for the next couple of hours.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Andrew ended up ordering up some lunch because he was getting hungry and Neil was still sleeping on his leg. It seemed easier to wake him up to tell him that food had <i>arrived</i> rather than to wake him up so that one of them could go about making food. </p>
<p>Neil was offensively cute about waking up and stayed semi-sleepy throughout half the meal, but Andrew couldn’t deny that his idiot was in a relaxed and comfortable mood. He was still relaxed when he left him to his homework a little while later so that he could go to his appointment with Bee, and for some stupid reason that made Andrew feel… content. It did not escape his notice that he was starting to associate that word with Neil. Neil, a loudmouthed little shit who probably had absolutely no right being anyone’s “contentment”. </p>
<p>Aaron was not waiting around in the dorms, by the Maserati, or at the health center when Andrew showed up for his appointment, thank fuck. He didn’t care <i>where</i> his twin had gone off to, he was just glad that he didn’t have to waste time getting rid of him. The last day and a half had been filled with too fucking much already, and he was aware enough of his own healing process to know that he needed to talk through it.</p>
<p>The door to Bee’s office opened and Andrew was a bit annoyed with himself how comforting he found her usual peaceful smile. That was just Bee. She didn’t anticipate, she didn’t expect anything, she was just… there. It was reassuring, and stepping into her office lifted the pressure off him in a way he had almost forgotten it could since his usual weekly appointments had become a joint-therapy session with his reluctant twin. </p>
<p>“Andrew, please come on in. Would you like some hot chocolate? I think I have some marshmallows left as well.”</p>
<p>Bee was a fucking saint.</p>
<p>Andrew nodded and went to take his usual seat on the couch. There was no rush in Bee’s movements as she went about fixing their hot chocolate. </p>
<p>“No Aaron today?” she asked conversationally as she filled the electric kettle and set the temperature for something that wouldn’t need twenty minutes to cool before they’d be able to drink the hot chocolate without scalding themselves. </p>
<p>“No. I told him to stay behind today. There’s something else I wanted to talk about.” That got him a gently curious look, but she didn’t press just yet. He appreciated that about Bee. Andrew rarely came into their sessions and openly admitted that he wanted or needed anything, let alone to talk about a problem or something that was on his mind. He was much more likely to just launch into a rant or let Bee prod him in one direction or another. He was learning to become more active in his own mental health, but it was a process he was still somewhat resistant to if only out of reflex.</p>
<p>Bee hummed thoughtfully and poured the water into each of the mugs she pulled out. She always gave Andrew the stylized cat-shaped one because he’d once commented on the pissed off expression of the cat as being relatable. For herself, Bee always used a fox. It was her attempt at a very stupid joke and Andrew had called her out on it more than once.</p>
<p>“Neil wasn’t talking yesterday, and it’s still a… struggle for him today,” he said as blandly as possible as he accepted the mug of hot chocolate. </p>
<p>If Bee was surprised that Andrew was willingly bringing up Neil fucking-pipedream Josten in her office, she didn’t show it. Later, he might let himself feel impressed about that. Sure, he’d bitched openly about him when he’d first shown up with his lying brown eyes and his binder of secrets, but as Neil changed from being a suspect to being… <i>Neil</i>, he’d started avoiding the topic when in session with Bee. His attraction had started out annoying and then quickly grew into something far more troublesome, and Bee was like a shark in the water when it came to Andrew bleeding out those kinds of vulnerabilities. She wouldn’t push too hard, but she <i>knew</i>, and back then that was bad enough. </p>
<p>Then he’d come back from Easthaven, both better and worse than he’d been when he’d left. Better because at least he was off the fucking drugs, and worse… well, Neil wasn’t the only topic Andrew avoided with Bee. </p>
<p>Andrew knew how Neil felt about psychologists, and that in combination with his own desperation not to acknowledge his… <i>feelings</i> on the matter of the junkie meant that he preferred to veer desperately to the left whenever he came up in session. The problem with that, of course, was that Neil was admittedly a huge part of his life now. He was fucking everywhere. And Aaron, that fucking asstwat, had a nasty little habit of bringing him up as well - so he and Bee had gotten used to a very uncomfortable little dance around the subject of his rabbit. </p>
<p>It went something like this: Neil would come up, Bee would give him an annoyingly knowing sort of look and ask a few surface questions, then Andrew would glare, answer as briefly as possible, and change the subject. Ten minutes would pass, and then, surprise surprise, Neil <i>fucking</i> Josten would come up again. The bitch.</p>
<p>And then, of course, there was today - where the first word out of Andrew’s mouth was Neil’s name. </p>
<p>“How does that make you feel?” Bee asked casually, making a brief note in her notebook. </p>
<p>“Too much,” was Andrew’s too-honest answer. He knew that he hadn’t misheard the overwhelming clusterfuck of truth in his own voice when Bee looked up and right at him. She studied his face, then gave a small smile, sipping her cocoa. </p>
<p>“Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what happened yesterday, then we can start to unpack it. Is that alright?”</p>
<p>Andrew nodded with a sigh and leaned back, his thumbs rubbing over the lip of his mug - back and forth, back and forth - until they hummed from the heat. In between sips of hot chocolate and mouthfuls of marshmallow, Andrew told Bee about Neil’s odd demeanor yesterday, about him changing in the bathroom, about his quietness, about the dead look in his eyes, about <i>’talking is hard today’</i>, and about their whole exchange in the library. He felt his hands shake in remembered rage as he told Bee about the utter <i>stupidity</i> that Neil had pulled on the court last night. He avoided bringing up his fears about Neil’s sudden body-shyness, but he saw Bee making a note - she knew him too well by now. </p>
<p>He <i>did</i> bring up his observations about Neil being comforted by his touch, and told Bee about Neil falling asleep on him this morning after practice.</p>
<p>“That’s not so uncommon,” Bee said with a hum. “Especially between individuals as close as yourself and Neil. You’ve been through a lot together, so it would make sense for him to feel safe with you and to take comfort in your nearness or your touch.” Andrew had never spoken to Bee in-depth about Baltimore, but he knew she knew all about it - and about he and Neil had been around each other upon him coming back to them. Enough of the Foxes saw her regularly and were affected by that whole shit show, not to mention her being close friends with Abby and the Coach. </p>
<p>Just the thought of it now made his grip tighten on his mug. He felt an echo of that bone-marrow-deep chill well up at the memory, and he was willing now to admit that it was fear. Not just fear, but the fear of losing Neil.</p>
<p>“It’s not nothing,” he heard himself say - almost without deciding to say it. He wasn’t looking at Bee, couldn’t look at her just yet, and instead stared into the melted froth of marshmallow on his remaining hot chocolate. “With Neil,” he clarified - even though he knew he didn’t have to, “it isn’t nothing. But I don’t know how… I don’t know how to do this.”</p>
<p>“To do what?” Bee asked gently when he didn’t continue after a minute or so. Good old Bee, prodding every so lightly to keep things rolling. </p>
<p>Andrew rolled his eyes and finally looked at her. She was predictably unaffected and he sighed, leaning back into the cushions. <i>“This”</i>, he emphasized unhelpfully with a wave of the hand that held the hot chocolate, though he’d guzzled enough of it by this point that it didn’t slosh over. A shame, really, because that would have added a nice effect. </p>
<p>Bee seemed to consider him for a moment, her pen tapping thoughtfully on the paper before her in predictable intervals of three. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. It’s how he knew she was thinking of the best approach to something he usually liked to avoid. Considering where he’d been over two years ago when he’d first started seeing her, in that he avoided <i>everything</i>, it was a pattern he was used to by now. </p>
<p>“By ‘this’, do you mean your relationship with Neil?” she finally asked.</p>
<p>Andrew glared at her. It was reflex at this point. </p>
<p>When Bee only smiled serenely back at him (he was rethinking the whole ‘comforting’ lapse earlier, ‘annoying’ was more accurate), Andrew sighed heavily. When he realized he was fighting the urge to fucking <i>whine</i> he made himself sit the fuck up and just spit it out. </p>
<p>“He needs me. Yesterday especially, and today too with whatever is going on with him… he needed me. I fucked up, pushing him. I said some stupid shit that I shouldn’t have, twice. But he still let me in. I thought he was shutting me out by not talking, but that’s not what’s going on. I don’t even <i>know</i> what the fuck is going on, but that’s not it. Neil is a fucking rabbit, he runs when he’s spooked. That’s just what the fuck he does. But he told me he wouldn’t run anymore, and he didn’t run. He kept his phone on him. He answered in the way he could. He let me come be by him. Then, when <i>I</i> fucked up, he pushed his own limits and he asked me to stay.”</p>
<p>The word vomit was absolutely disgusting, and he hated himself for it. But the thought of that destroyed look on Neil’s face when he thought he was leaving - when he grabbed his shirt, when he asked him to <b>stay</b> even though that one stupid word looked like it cost him so much to choke out…</p>
<p>“I want to be there for him,” he finally admitted quietly. He was well aware that for the past two years, every single time Bee asked him what he wanted from <i>anything</i> his answer was always ‘nothing’. If you wanted nothing, then you could never be disappointed when you didn’t get it. If you wanted nothing, then you could never be hurt when it was torn away. </p>
<p>“I want to be there for him, and I don’t know how. I’m not… I am not a fucking gentle person, Bee. I’m not.. I am not soft or… or.. I don’t even fucking know! I’m a monster, and Neil is so… Ugh, he’s such a fucking idiot is what he is.” Andrew scowled down into his cocoa. </p>
<p>“Let’s take a step back for a moment and unpack some of that. You know how I feel about you calling yourself a monster, Andrew. Why bring it up now? Does Neil call you a monster?”</p>
<p>“What? No. He fucking hates it.” He rolled his eyes and looked up at her, pausing at the knowing, understanding look on her face. “What?”</p>
<p>“Andrew, I’m not familiar with Neil on a personal level, but from what I can tell, he’s a loyal person who also isn’t afraid to tell others what he thinks of them.” She paused and waited for Andrew’s nod of begrudging confirmation before continuing. “I’m going to ask you a question and I would like you to think for a little while on it before you answer it, alright? Don’t just say the first thing that comes to mind.” Again, she waited for Andrew to give his nod of understanding.</p>
<p>“Do you trust Neil’s responses to you?”</p>
<p>Andrew’s first reaction to that was ‘what the fuck is <i>that</i> supposed to mean?’ - but he obligingly held it in and sighed, tilting his head back against the cushion and closing his eyes to think. </p>
<p>Neil’s responses to him, huh? His first thought was of how Neil reacted when he touched him. It was hard not to, honestly. Neil was, well… <i>responsive</i> was a good word for it. Or reactive. </p>
<p>One of the reasons Andrew figured he’d gotten so fucking infatuated with touching him so quickly after they started their little… whatever… back in February was how Neil always reacted to every little thing he did to him. Every kiss was the only kiss, the first and the last and the end of the world kiss. When Andrew touched his face, it was like he was feeling the sun for the first goddamn time after being trapped underground for a decade, the way he always turned into his palm with that stupid look on his face. And when Andrew touched his skin, whether it was the smooth valleys of his sides just above his hips or the bony ridges of his spine or the mixed terrain of his battle scars - Neil always arched into him. He’d bite his lip so he didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to with the way his body always seemed to beg <i>’more more more, Andrew, more’</i>. </p>
<p>That was to say nothing about the sounds he <i>did</i> make, how every sigh was like a fucking <i>prayer</i> and Andrew’s hands were Neil’s religion. How he was able to say <i>’yes’</i> and <i>’Andrew’</i> with such emphatic consent and desire that Andrew would feel high on the whispers for hours afterward.</p>
<p>And all this before Andrew even got <i>near</i> his cock. Really, Andrew couldn’t even fault himself - anyone would have gotten addicted to Neil like that. </p>
<p>There was no way Neil’s physical responses could be anything less than genuine, they were too raw. For a man who lied like breathing for most of his life, he had zero doubts that he was stripped down to nothing but the bare truth under Andrew’s hands. </p>
<p>Which brought him around to the other side of Neil’s ‘responses’. Which was… what? The way he acted around him? He thought about yesterday morning, about Neil oh-so-discreetly helping Jack to wipe out in what he suspected was a retaliation on his behalf. He thought about all the times when he knew for a fact that Neil spoke out for him, defended him, and tore into anyone who even breathed in his direction wrong. People were always quick to bring up how protective Andrew was of his family and Kevin, of those he had decided were under his protection, but they always seemed to forget Josten’s own little protective streak. He didn’t tolerate danger toward his Foxes, and even Andrew had to admit that he was particularly defensive when it came to him. He was still pissed off at Neil for that whole Evermore bullshit. Neil had no right to put himself through that for <i>him</i>. </p>
<p>Then they also had the weirdness of the past two days. Of Neil asking him to stay. Of Neil leaning into his clumsily offered comfort. Of him asking to hold his hand. Of Neil peacefully sleeping with his head on his lap.</p>
<p><i>Unmistakably genuine,</i> his mind whispered to him. Neil’s responses to him were unmistakably genuine.</p>
<p>Oh. </p>
<p>Andrew took a deep breath and looked back at Bee. “Yes.”</p>
<p>Bee smiled at him, bright as a fucking ray of sunshine, all proud and happy and shit. He glared at her for the audacity. </p>
<p>“Would you say that Neil’s responses to you are primarily positive?”</p>
<p>Yeah, yeah, he could see where this was going now and he let out an annoyed sigh. <i>”Yes.”</i></p>
<p>“And what about your responses to Neil?”</p>
<p>“Obviously,” he ground out.</p>
<p>Bee looked positively <i>delighted</i>, but she was smart enough to contain herself by bowing her head to scribble more in her stupid notebook. “Obviously?” she prompted without looking up, giving him the chance to elaborate.</p>
<p>Normally, he wouldn’t, but he’d come here for a fucking reason and this was fucking it. </p>
<p>“Yes,” he almost barked. “Obviously. Because Josten makes me feel…” He huffed. “He makes me <i>feel</i>, and I don’t want it to stop.” There was more to it than that, so much more, but he had no idea how to fucking articulate it yet. </p>
<p>Bee was quiet for a while then, and so was Andrew. Neither of them spoke as the clock ticked calmly on the wall and Bee shuffled her notebook to the side so that she could get them each another round of hot chocolate. When Andrew finally looked up at her, Bee met his gaze calmly and smiled. It was a quiet smile, something warm and proud and something else. She was happy for him, he realized. </p>
<p>“Andrew, this is a very good thing. I’m proud of you, that you are willing to recognize that Neil is important to you - and that you can see yourself as something positive, even if it’s through someone else’s eyes.” What she didn’t say out loud, but what he knew was hidden behind her words, was that she hoped he’d be able to see it for himself now, too. </p>
<p>The Andrew of a year ago would have rolled his eyes. Today, Andrew just gave an uncomfortable, noncommittal grunt and looked away to sip his cocoa in peace. </p>
<p>“We’re going to learn ASL together,” he admitted quietly after a few moments. “American Sign Language.” He was still looking down into his hot chocolate, but he heard the light brush of Bee’s pen against her notebook. “It bothers him, that he’s having this… whatever, with words. He’s good with languages, and I’ve been meaning to learn another one.” He sighed and figured he might as well tell the whole truth about that so he looked up and met Bee’s eyes defiantly as he said, “With Neil. I was already thinking about learning a new language with Neil. So we’d have something that was just for us. I’d been thinking Russian, initially.” Because Neil speaking Russian to him was, well, yes. “But I figured ASL would work, and if it can help Neil with whatever is going on…”</p>
<p>Bee nodded, smiling. Always smiling, that was Bee - but it wasn’t a fake smile or overly enthusiastic. It was a smile that was more just the shape of her mouth, her neutral like apathy and blankness was Andrew’s and defensive fire was Neil’s. “I can give you some resources if you like, and I’d be happy to help you practice whenever you like.”</p>
<p>“You know ASL?” Andrew fixed her with a blankly skeptical look, though he knew Bee had no reason to lie.</p>
<p>She chuckled. “I wouldn’t call myself completely fluent, but yes. I wouldn’t mind brushing up on my own skills, anyway.”</p>
<p>Andrew nodded. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”</p>
<p>Bee hummed and made another note, then she sipped her cocoa and focused on him. “Andrew, may I share my opinions with you?” That was the other thing Andrew appreciated about Bee. She didn’t push hew view onto him if he didn’t want to hear it. It was probably the single most influential reason why their relationship was what it was now. Why he trusted her so much and why he was willing to go to her today, to talk to her about his… <i>relationship</i> with Neil, and the fears surrounding it. If he told her no, that he didn’t want to hear it, she wouldn’t say anything. She wouldn’t pressure him, wouldn’t make it seem like she was disappointed. There wouldn’t be a single hint of disapproval, either. She’d just make another little note in her notebook and they’d move on. </p>
<p>For the first six months of their sessions, Andrew had told her ‘no’ every single time she’d asked that question. He’d told her ‘no’ to just about any question, really, just to relish in the ability to do so and have it be respected. </p>
<p>Now, he gave a small nod. “Yes.”</p>
<p>Bee waited a beat. She always did. She always gave him the chance to change his mind. Then she smiled and sat up a little bit in her chair. “Andrew, I think you’re being incredibly supportive,” she said first, and Andrew blinked in surprise. “I can see that you’re worried about being able to be there for Neil, that you’re unsure about how to protect him from something you can’t physically fight - and that that in turn frustrates you. But from what you’ve told me, it seems like you <i>are</i> being there for him. I admire the communication that you and Neil seem to have, where he feels comfortable enough to ask for what he needs from you and trusts you to be honest about what you’re able to give.</p>
<p>“Furthermore, your willingness to accept Neil’s limits with what he can or is willing to share with you regarding his struggles shows that you have a very healthy respect for him, as well. It’s okay to be frustrated with feeling helpless, I understand that was hard for you - that it probably still is today, knowing that Neil is going through something beyond either of your control - but you’re handling it in a very forward-thinking way.”</p>
<p>She took a sip of her cocoa, and her expression was warm as she continued to regard him seriously, honestly - without a trace of coddling or condescension. “Instead of letting yourself obsess about what you <i>couldn’t</i> do, you came up with a solution, something that the two of you could do together that could help him. That’s beautifully supportive, Andrew. You may think that you don’t know how do ‘this’,” she tossed gently back at him, “but there is no set formula for a relationship. No two people are the same, and so no relationship is the same either. All any of us can do is be honest with the people we choose to be with. And be willing to accept their honesty in turn - which is <i>exactly</i> what you and Neil have been doing.”</p>
<p>Andrew busied himself with a few large swallows of cocoa, not used to such honest and open approval. This wasn’t the first time that Bee had commended him, but usually it was regarding to his relationship with his own psyche - not to another person. It was distinctly uncomfortable to think that he was doing something <i>right</i> when he was so used to either completely fucking everything up or genuinely not giving a shit one way or another. </p>
<p>“What, are you some sort of relationship counselor now?” he grumbled around the rim of his mug when there was no more cocoa to use as a distraction. “Thought your specialty was the crazies.”</p>
<p>Bee hummed in gentle admonishment. “I don’t like to use the word ‘crazies’, especially in references to my patients.”</p>
<p>Andrew snorted, but he didn’t push it - if only because he believed that Bee genuinely cared about the work she did and the patients that she helped. </p>
<p>He saw Bee’s smile and thought that maybe she understood his acquiescence. She really did know him too well. If he weren’t already emotionally wrung out, that might bother him. </p>
<p>“Well,” she said gently after another moment of comfortable silence. “We’re nearing the end of our time today. Was there anything else you’d like to say or ask?” When Andrew shook his head, she smiled. “Alright, but if you think of something later you know you can always call. We can set up another session if you need to. Or, if you think it might help, I’d be more than happy to sit with both you and Neil together.”</p>
<p>Andrew snorted at the idea, but he didn’t dismiss it completely. A week ago, he’d have been able to shoot it down easily. Neil made it no secret that while he could support Andrew seeing Bee, and understood why other people confided in a psychiatrist, he never saw himself being able to do the same. But after the last couple of days… He wouldn’t bring it up right away, but he’d let it linger in the back of his mind for a while.</p>
<p>“How do you feel now, Andrew? Now that we’ve talked through some of your concerns.” </p>
<p>He eyed her for a moment, then gave a begrudging sigh. “Better,” he admitted with a shrug.</p>
<p>Bee smiled. “Better?” she probed gently. “Better how?”</p>
<p>Andrew rolled his eyes, familiar with her insistence on ‘more specific observations of his own mental and emotional state’ (her words). He thought for a moment, evaluating how he’d felt before talking to Bee, and why he felt that way - and comparing that to now. </p>
<p>“I feel more confident,” he finally said with a sigh. </p>
<p>“About?” She was wearing a smile that was almost fucking cheeky and he glared at her. </p>
<p>“Don’t push it,” he grumbled in answer. She knew very well that he was talking about his relationship with Neil and he’d already said way more out loud about <i>that</i> than he’d ever thought he would. He was done now. Fucking <i>done</i>. He was ready for a fucking nap.</p>
<p>Unbidden, the situation from this morning rose in his mind, when he and Neil were on the couch. Except this time he imagined himself with <i>his</i> head on <i>Neil’s</i> lap, slowly drifting off to sleep with the gentle feeling of his rabbit’s fingers sifting through his hair…</p>
<p>Andrew stood abruptly and moved to set his mug down on Bee’s desk. “That’s all for today Bee. See ya.”</p>
<p>Bee only smiled and nodded, setting her notebook aside to walk him to the door without asking. “I hope you have a good rest of your day, Andrew. And a restful week. Good luck on your game this Friday.”</p>
<p>He rolled his eyes at the pleasantries, but he grumbled out a quick ‘thanks’ as he shuffled out the door. He didn’t go immediately back to the dorm but instead took the Maserati out for a long drive to clear his head a little bit. As he drove he let his mind wander, sometimes thinking about Neil, or his brother, or nothing at all. As he made his way back to campus he wondered what the sign for ‘rabbit’ was in ASL. It was the first thing he looked up when he got back to the dorm.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And there's Bee! I want to be clear that I am in no way a mental health professional and my only experiences are personal from the other side of the couch. This is just what I imagine Bee's approach to have been, given what we know about Andrew's personality and how much he trusts Bee.</p>
<p>What's next? Probably some more sappy stuff, honestly. But there's also going to be a more violent scene coming up as well. I'll make sure to give a warning for when to expect it, though!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thursday brings thunder, but that's not the only storm brewing. Neil and Andrew spend some time together, then it's on to morning practice in preparation for the game on Friday - but 'cohesion' has never been a Fox strong suit.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just popping in to say that other than Jack and Sheena I have NO IDEA who the other freshman Foxes are canonically supposed to be. Were they even given names? I DON’T KNOW. All I know is that there are five of them. So, I made them up. </p><p>And THANK YOU again for your kudos and comments!!! *hearts!!* Each one literally makes my fricken’ day. ^///^</p><p>Also, the playlist I made for this fic is all over the frickin’ place. Seriously, my friends, I’m concerned.</p><p>Chapter warnings for homophobic language and violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thunder crashed like bombs against Fox Tower, shaking the windows and setting off the more temperamental car alarms down in the parking lot. Andrew stood just inside the doorway that opened out onto the roof and stared down the storm, deeply offended by the atmospheric temper tantrum. The most aggravating part about it was that when he left his dorm room a few minutes ago it hadn't even been raining.</p><p>Not about to back down so easily, Andrew propped the door open and made himself as comfortable as possible sitting sideways on the steps with his back to the wall. It wasn't his usual view of a death drop, but he supposed a near-apocalyptic level storm was a decent enough substitute. He pulled out his cigarettes and shook one free, lighting it up and letting the smoke infect his lungs and the kiss of nicotine to buzz through his veins. On nights like this, he appreciated the substance's ability to staplegun his drifting mind back to his body, forcing him to be aware of the here and now by the way it gently set off his nerves. It wasn't enough to be distracting, just enough to keep him grounded so he didn't drift too far.</p><p>He was halfway through his second cigarette when he heard the light tread of footsteps up the stairs. By the time Neil reached him, he had a spare cigarette lit and waiting.</p><p>The striker accepted it with only a quiet hum of acknowledgment.</p><p>Practice that afternoon had been an utter shitshow, but Andrew's capacity for giving a shit began and ended with the degree to which the afternoon's dramatics had involved the people in his circle - which was to say that for fucking <i>once</i>, it didn't. Instead, that human canker sore Jack kept getting into it with one of the other freshman boys, Caleb something-or-other. Some kind of posturing, alpha male bullshit that literally no one had time for. Still, when they were focused on each other they usually didn't have time to fuck with anyone else except the third male freshman, Rowan, who honestly seemed like he'd rather be anywhere else. The only reason that Andrew paid the freshman any attention <i>at all</i> was because Jack and that bitch Sheena seemed to have a very unfortunate hard-on for trying to get under Neil's skin and the occasional too-pointed assault on Nicky.</p><p>After the intense session with Bee only a few hours beforehand, as long as the fuckers didn't target his own he really couldn't have cared less if they murdered each other on the court. He'd already been feeling drained, and then the tension that infected practice had pushed him into a state of being almost over-tired, making it almost fucking impossible to sleep.</p><p>Hence why he was up on the roof at two o'clock in the fucking morning instead of sleeping like a normal person. This did not, however, explain why <i>Neil</i> was on the roof at two o'clock in the fucking morning instead of sleeping when he had his precious practice in just a few hours.</p><p>He glanced over and studied his rabbit in the dim haze of the light pollution, taking advantage of the sharper flashes of lighting to inspect the set of his mouth and the shadows under his eyes. While Andrew had stubbornly compacted himself into the cradle of concrete that was his choice of seat on the stairs, Neil had elected to stay standing, and he was leaning against the wall as he looked out into the storm, cigarette held up near his face so he could indulge his habit of second-hand smoking. It only took him one flash of lightning to recognize that Neil was wearing <i>his</i> sweatshirt and two more to come to terms with the fact that he was oddly pleased by this.</p><p>Andrew didn't know how long he had been watching him, exactly, when Neil finally turned to look at him.</p><p>"Staring," he said quietly - with that warm, private quality to it that Andrew was coming to recognize as <i>affection</i>. His lower lip even relaxed with mirrored sentiment, his eyebrows slightly raised. Smug little fucker was <i>amused</i> with him.</p><p>Andrew snorted and pointedly looked back out into the storm. He lifted his cigarette to take a meaningful drag only to find out that it had burned down to the filter without him as he'd been <i>staring</i>. Disgusted with himself he flicked the cigarette corpse into the torrent beyond the roof access door and retrieved a fresh stick. He lit it and took a nice, deep drag.</p><p>"Don't you have your own clothes?" He tossed the question out there almost lightly, his voice even and his expression blank, not willing to betray his curiosity, not willing to reveal how much he needed to know if Neil had purposely or accidentally grabbed his sweatshirt. He tried to tell himself he didn't have a preference.</p><p>"Hm." Andrew could hear the small smile in Neil's voice and he very purposefully did not look over at him to confirm it. He expected Neil to say something dismissive or even teasing. He did not expect the quietly honest murmur of "It smells like you."</p><p>Andrew's hand stopped halfway to his mouth for another drag but it was another beat before he turned to look at Neil. Another flash of lightning illuminated his rabbit's uncertainty. It wasn't something that most people would probably notice, not even Neil's precious Foxes (likely <i>especially</i> not them), but Andrew saw it in the slight tension in his upper lip and the careful steadiness in those beautiful fucking blue eyes. Sometimes Neil astounded him with how well he seemed to be able to read him, with how little he had to say for his stupid little rabbit to know exactly what was going on inside his head. Other times, like now, he was struck with the opposite - at how Neil seemed to miss things that, to Andrew, were so fucking obvious. Usually, he felt a mix of relief and frustration at these examples of obliviousness. Right now though Andrew was realizing, very suddenly, that while he'd spent the last few days coming to terms with the very concrete truth that Neil meant something to him, that he and Neil were <i>something</i>, he hadn't actually shared that revelation with Neil himself.</p><p>He was instantly indescribably angry with Neil. Neil, who opened himself up like an aching wound, exposing his vulnerabilities to Andrew over and over again with such blatant trust...</p><p>His jaw ached from the sucker punch of that raw trust and he channeled some of his rage into his arm as he flung his half-smoked cigarette out into the unrelenting storm, his taste for the tobacco and nicotine replaced with a different, headier, more insistent craving. He used a hand flat on the wall to help drag himself up to his feet before crossing the narrow stairwell to stand in front of Neil, appreciating the rare advantage of height that being one step higher gave him over the striker. Moving deliberately so Neil knew what he was doing, he took the other man's chin in hand and tilted his face up, then relaxed the grip to stroke up his jaw and cup his cheek.</p><p>"Yes or no," he asked with the storm raging at his open back.</p><p>The next flash of lightning might as well have originated in Neil's too-blue eyes and struck him right in the chest. The crash of his heart against his ribcage may as well have been the thunder.</p><p>"Yes." Andrew hadn't realized that they'd already been leaning in that close to each other, but he felt the breath of Neil's consent against his lips like a kiss. Then there was no more space between them for breath as Andrew claimed Neil’s mouth for his own. He didn’t think he would ever get over how easy it was to kiss Neil, how terrifyingly easy it was to <i>get lost</i> in kissing him. It wasn’t something that had built up or changed over time - it was just the chemistry of what happened when they got close enough to touch. He couldn’t explain it, and for a long time that had driven him half-mad with frustration but now he was beginning to just accept it as the truth. He still remembered the shock of it when he’d finally succumbed and kissed Neil that first time on this very roof - how he’d been so sure he just had to get it out of his system, that he’d kiss him and it would be over, curiosity sated, done. </p><p>Except it wasn’t. Except that kiss had only opened him up to so, so much more that he just hadn’t been ready for. He wasn’t sure he was ready for it <i>now</i>, but he was beginning to accept that he wanted it. He wanted this, with Neil. He wanted this so badly that the ache in his chest caused by the frantically surrendered breaths stolen by their kisses was a veritable salve in the face of that longing. </p><p>His fingers curled and pressed firmly into the base of Neil’s skull behind his ear where he was holding onto him, and he broke them apart for the length of a gasp, his lungs burning. The soft, distressed little plea that Neil made at the momentary distance made something hot and fiercely territorial rise up from the pit of his belly all the way to his throat. He was a dragon and Neil with all his soft looks and his quiet sighs and endless, <i>boundless</i> trust was his hoard.</p><p>“‘Drew..” his rabbit gasped, his voice softer, higher, tight with all this <i>something</i> and Andrew wanted to listen to the sound of it all night, except that would mean he couldn’t be kissing him and that wasn’t a concession he wanted to make right now. </p><p>“Hips, waist, back, over my clothes,” he growled out on a rough, harsh breath before leaning in and taking his lips again. Neil’s hands landed first on his waist, then when he was sure of his welcome he moved them around to his back, fisting those long, elegant fingers into the back of his shirt. </p><p>Andrew liked the way that Neil wanted to cling to him. He felt something ephemeral and nameless at the knowledge that despite this need, this instinct in his idiot, Neil never took and always asked or waited for permission, that he never resented when he couldn’t have it and was just so fucking genuinely happy with whatever Andrew was able to give him in the moment. </p><p>In this moment, Andrew wanted to give him <i>more</i> - and when he wrapped his free arm across Neil’s back and pulled him forward, vanquishing the scant inches of space between them to press their chests tight together, Neil <i>moaned</i> and fuck if that sound wasn’t a force of nature in itself strong enough to push back the storm behind him. Andrew fed off of that sound, he drank it down, and the next time he broke the kiss they were both panting heavily.</p><p>Eyes still closed, Andrew rested his forehead against Neil’s and felt rather than heard the way that Neil’s shuttered breathing caught between the gasps. </p><p>“Andrew…” Neil murmured softly, and Andrew had never thought his name could sound so beautiful. </p><p>He forced himself to take a slow breath, ignoring the way it shook. When he opened his eyes, lightning flashed again, and Andrew was struck with how Earth was called ‘the blue planet’ - because he <i>vividly</i> understood how a simple color could encompass an entire world. His body reacted instinctively to the sight and he curled tighter around Neil, bringing him ever closer without trying to kiss him again. There was something about the intimacy of their breath mingling and the storm raging on only feet away from them that Andrew was unwilling to break, not even for another kiss. </p><p>They stood there like that until both their breathing had calmed, hearts marking time in steady, unhurried unison. Andrew still couldn’t bring himself to break his gaze away from that world-encompassing blue, not even when he felt Neil pull a hand away from his back and bring it to hover beside his face right in his periphery. Once he gave a small nod, careful not to break the gentle contact they already maintained, he felt Neil touch his face. He didn’t cup his face right away and instead brushed the back of his fingers over his cheek in such a light, careful touch that Andrew shivered. It was enough to have him closing his eyes, if only for a moment, and he had to press his lips shut to forbid a sigh. </p><p>When he opened them again, Neil was cradling his cheek and he was subjected to just how deeply those blue eyes could search him. He didn’t know what Neil found, but it made him smile - and fuck that <i>did</i> something to him. Every single damn time. Andrew wasn’t the kind of man that should ever be able to inspire that kind of smile, but there was such a raw honesty in it that spoke of home like Andrew himself was the key and Andrew wasn’t a strong enough man to turn away from it. When it was with Neil, Andrew was beginning to think that maybe weakness didn’t always have to be a bad thing. </p><p>*****</p><p>The three hours of sleep Andrew ended up getting by the time he and Neil returned to their room was probably the most weirdly restful he’d gotten all week. Or maybe he was still a bit high on Neil’s storm kisses, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to complain.</p><p>The storm was no longer the rampant monster it had been at two o’clock this morning, but it was still raining when they all piled out of Fox Tower to head to the court. Any remnants of his peaceful mood were systematically eaten away the longer practice dragged on. Usually they’d be at the gym every morning, but with the utter disaster these fucking newbie Foxes were and with their first realm game on Friday, it had been decided to spend more time at the court instead. So they’d gotten to keep Wednesday as a gym day and the rest of the week had been sacrificed to extra court time.</p><p>He couldn’t be the only one thinking that this decision had clearly backfired, and badly. The Foxes had spent more time ripping into each other and breaking out into fights than they had actually practicing, and not even Dan and Wymack’s constant threats to bench the worst offenders until next season did much good. </p><p>By the time practice was finally over, tensions were high throughout the team. Even <i>Nicky</i> was scowling and swearing as they headed back to the locker room, throwing his helmet angrily into his locker.</p><p>“What’s that Hemmick?” one of the little freshman fucks crooned as he dragged his jersey off. Caleb. Not as much of a pustule as Jack, but only because he usually kept his dicking to the other freshman. “Starting to finally realize that you’re worth absolute shit?”</p><p>“Fuck you, freshie. Talk to me when you stop tripping over your own ego and can actually catch a pass.”</p><p>“Ew, gross. Keep your gay bullshit away from me.”</p><p>“Please, like I would ever risk my dick in your diseased ass.” Nicky turned from where he’d been stripping off the last of his padding and gave Caleb a long, slow look that would have been leering if it wasn’t filled with so much disgust. “Yeah, no, not even worth the consideration. You’re way too fucking ugly to stir me up, so stop thinking so highly of yourself.”</p><p>Andrew tried to block out the rest of their posturing as he turned toward his own locker to start stripping down. He needed a shower, and Nicky could take care of himself against some ignorant freshmen. Nicky was a lot like Neil in that he liked to fight his battles with a sharp tongue armed with all the words no one wanted to hear. He didn’t let shit get to him, and when Nicky wasn’t annoying the shit out of him it was something that he had to begrudgingly admire about the older man. </p><p>Still, he lingered and he waited until the three freshman boys had gone off to the showers before he followed Nicky to grab his own stall. There were plenty of reasons that Wymack could have had to fund the building of individual shower stalls in the Foxes locker rooms, but Andrew had to admit - it made it a hell of a lot harder for assholes to gang up on someone and gave them less incentive to do so in cases like Nicky’s. Nicky, that fucking idiot, wasn’t really known for his discretion. </p><p>It was Andrew’s own fault that he allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of security. The hot water felt good, it wasn’t even nine in the fucking morning yet, and maybe he’d had a very restful three hours of sleep but it had still been only three hours. He didn’t even realize he was missing something until he heard Jack’s familiar scathing drawl - high and superior and far too self-satisfied.</p><p>“What, are you a fag too, Josten? Is that it? You letting Hemmick stuff you with dick every night?” Andrew’s eyes snapped open and he shut off the water abruptly to the sound of a cold cackle that did nothing to help the beast waking in his veins. “What? Got nothing to say?”</p><p>White, hot rage slashed through him like lightning, igniting every nerve in his body. He could taste murder on his tongue. </p><p>He was already moving, wrapping his towel tight around his waist without bothering to get rid of the excess water as he burst out of his stall and made for the locker room. The hard crash of a body hitting the lockers preceded his entrance and when he stepped into the locker room the first thing he saw was Nicky on the floor, his feet kicked up on the bench like he’d been pushed backward over it, his hands clinging to where his head had smacked into the metal and caused the crashing sound. Neil was crouched on the floor next to him, one hand resting on the lockers and the other arm flung out like a shield in front of the fallen man. His back was exposed to the room, sacrificed to defense as Matthew Boyd took on two freshmen and the third just stared on, stupified. </p><p>He gave himself only long enough to observe the scene before he was moving again, dodging around the tangle of larger bodies as they fought and wrestled in various states of undress to get to Nicky and Neil. Behind him he heard Aaron coming into the room as well with a confused shout of <i>’What the actual fuck?!’</i></p><p>Andrew only diverted his attention just long enough to gauge where his twin was, then his focus was back on the fallen Nicky and his stupid little human shield. Neil stood just as he reached them, but he only turned away long enough to pull open a nearby locker and grab something from inside. He didn’t realize he was being tossed his armbands until they landed in his hand, which reflexively shot up to snatch them out of the air when Neil tossed them to him. </p><p>Neil didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. His blue eyes shone with a feral, protective rage even as his hands shook with something that Andrew couldn’t identify. Their eyes met for an instant, then Neil turned and put himself between the fight and Andrew and Nicky. He didn’t join in, but he kept himself ready and wary. Andrew tugged on the armbands.</p><p>Trusting him not to volunteer himself for a concussion as well, Andrew turned to Nicky, grabbing his chin and making his cousin look at him so that he could see his pupils. By the time he’d checked his face, the back of his head, and his neck for anything that could indicate a serious injury, the fight was over. Two on one wasn’t a fun kind of fight, but he had to hand it to Boyd, the giant of a backliner could handle himself. Then again, he’d met the man’s mother. He didn’t think Randy Boyd would have sent her son into <i>elementary school</i> without him having the tools he needed to fuck up anyone who even looked at him like his lunch money might be worth it. </p><p>“W-woah… Fuck… Matt you are my hero, man. Also, like, that was fucking hot. Can I watch you fight next time I get lonely?” Nicky let out a shaky laugh as Andrew hauled him stumbling to his feet. </p><p>Matt, who was holding a weakly struggling Jack against the lockers, let out a rough laugh of his own. “Sure thing Nicky. Though how about I teach you some boxing and next time we take these assholes together, yeah?”</p><p>Andrew barely listened to them as his eyes found Neil, unharmed but not okay, leaning against the lockers. It wasn’t only his hands that were shaking now. Their eyes met for only an instant, then Neil snapped his gaze away and pushed away from the lockers. He ignored both Matt and Nicky when they called out to him, vanishing into the showers. </p><p>“Don’t,” Andrew hissed when Nicky looked like he was going to follow. He fixed him with a steely look, then turned his attention to Matt and Jack. “If you don’t want to clean blood off the tile today, get him and the other little fuck out of here before I’m done.” A glance around the room told him that the third freshman had apparently had the sense to flee at some point during the scuffle. More or less satisfied with that, he left Boyd to clean up his mess as he went about getting dressed. </p><p>“Oh no, you’re staying right here and telling me what the fuck happened,” he said when Nicky made as if to gather his own stuff. While his voice came out almost casual, his eyes must have shown some of his temper because Nicky only gulped and sat down on the bench, one knee jumping anxiously.</p><p>“Uh. Well. Yeah. So, I mean. It wasn’t really that big of a deal, really. I’m not really hurt or anything.”</p><p>“Not what I asked, Nicky.”</p><p>“Uh, right.” Nicky fidgeted and Andrew tossed him a cold stare, holding it until the taller man broke. “Those assholes were just pushing it, alright? I don’t really <i>know</i> what all happened. I know better than to let words bother me and shit, you know? One of them said something that maybe got under my skin more than usual and then… shit, I don’t even know how Neil knew it bothered me that much but he was just <i>there</i>. He didn’t say anything, he just got right in Jack’s face and stared him down. Or, up. Whatever. You get what I mean.” </p><p>“That’s it, he just stared at him? Why the fuck didn’t Josten just punch his ass? Or at least tell him to fuck off. What, he can bring down Riko Moriyama and the fucking Ravens on the whole team with that mouth of his but he can’t even speak up in defense of his friend?” Andrew snapped a hard glare at where Aaron was tugging on his own shirt. He had not been invited to this conversation and his input was <i>not</i> appreciated. </p><p>“It wasn’t like that, Aaron! Really! Neil was all cute and scary and angry! You know how he is, though, he’s not really a fighter.”</p><p>Aaron scoffed. “Yeah, right.”</p><p>“He’s not!” Nicky looked to Andrew for backup and Andrew only raised a brow. As irritated as he was, he had to admit to being curious as to how well Nicky seemed to think he knew Neil. Nicky rolled his eyes with a huff. “Come on, you <i>know</i>. Neil fights his battles with words, yeah? Even on the court, he’s always goading the other team and drawing fire instead of physically attacking. He bitches you out then he runs and makes you trip over your ass trying to catch up to him.” Nicky grinned, like this was a great form of entertainment, and Andrew couldn’t really say that he was wrong - not about Neil or the entertainment value. At least, it was entertaining when that antagonistic streak didn’t get him fucking killed. </p><p>“Whatever. So why the fuck didn’t he open his mouth, then? He just let you get hurt.” Andrew narrowed his eyes at that accusation, his hands curling into fists as he shut his locker and turned to lean against it, his bag at his feet. </p><p>“No! That.. ugh, look, that was totally my fault. I caught Caleb looking at Neil. I’d feel bad for that poor, repressed little gayboy if he wasn’t such an asshole. He knew I saw and I winked at him because, well, yeah, I <i>fucking saw</i> him. Caleb was the one that pushed me over. I didn’t see what happened after that because I was, well, yeah, falling. But then Neil was next to me and Matt was taking down those two jerks like a <i>beast</i>. Then you guys showed up and, well, you know the rest.” Nicky shrugged, like it was all that simple. </p><p>“Caleb isn’t fucking gay,” Aaron insisted. Both Andrew and Nicky looked at him. Nicky’s look was pitying and Andrew wasn’t sure what was on his own face, but he very much wanted to introduce Aaron’s teeth to the garishly orange metal lockers if <i>that</i> was what he was going to choose to focus on - and not even for the right fucking reasons. He thought some of this must be showing because Aaron snorted and quickly grabbed his bag, turning to head for the door. </p><p>“Whatever, I’ll see you guys later. I’m meeting Katelyn for breakfast.” And then he was gone, such a neat escape for fucking coward.</p><p>Andrew watched him go then turned back to Nicky. The other man lasted less than a minute under his heavy stare before giving a nervous sort of giggle and standing. “Umm… right. So, I’ll go… wait out in the lobby!” He didn’t bother watching Nicky scurry off, his attention already turning toward where he could hear a sole shower running in the shower room just past the tiled corner on the other side of the room. </p><p>He gave Neil five more minutes before rose and walked into the shower room, stopping in front of the only occupied stall. He couldn’t see anything in the small gap at the base of the stall, meaning that Neil was keeping himself pressed close to the back wall. Raising his hand, he gave the door two light taps. </p><p>“Neil.”</p><p>Silence answered, but he wasn’t surprised by that. </p><p>“One knock if you want me to leave the locker room. Two if you want me to wait for you.”</p><p>There was a long pause, then two wet raps of knuckles against the tile where Neil must be standing.</p><p>Something tightened anxiously, uncomfortably in his gut as he thought about the other day and Neil seeming to not want to be naked around him. A part of him thought that maybe it was half in his own head, since Neil was perfectly fine being around him and had been actively seeking out his touch - especially in the past couple of days. But he couldn’t…. He couldn’t just ignore it. Not right now. He couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened, that it might not be an issue. </p><p>“Do you want me to hang your clean clothes by your towel? One for yes, two for no.” He knew that Neil didn’t like getting dressed in the shower room when he could avoid it - because of how damp it was. He put up with it on game days but for practices he just delayed his shower so that the locker room would be empty or mostly empty by the time he was done.</p><p>There was a hesitance hanging in the air, then a single knock.</p><p>Something ugly and burning tightened in his chest, but Andrew breathed past it. “Alright,” he said quietly, hoping nothing showed in his voice. It occurred to him, as he headed back into the locker room to get Neil’s clothes from his bag, that he didn’t usually have to work so hard to hide the inconvenient rise of emotion that happened from time to time. He wasn’t sure if it was because Neil was freakishly good at reading him or because he was just feeling <i>more</i> now that it was becoming such a struggle at times. When it was about Neil he supposed it was probably a mix of both. </p><p>Andrew chose not to pay attention to the relief that swept cooly through the fire in his chest when Neil emerged only a few minutes later. He was damp and dead-eyed, but he was here. He was moving. As Neil wordlessly moved to his locker to shove his sweat-soaked clothes into the laundry bag at the bottom and finish stowing the rest of his gear, Andrew picked up the striker’s bag and rifled through it again. He pulled out the pear he’d seen Neil shove into it on their way out of the dorm this morning and held it up in silent demand with Neil turned back to him.</p><p>Neil stopped and just stared at him for a moment, almost confused, then he sighed and his expression softened. It wasn’t completely relaxed - but he was more <i>present</i>. He lifted one hand and pointed to himself, then formed two letters.</p><p>“I’m OK.” </p><p>Andrew didn’t have words for the ocean that opened up in his chest - not at the words themselves but at the way being able to say them <i>somehow</i> visibly loosened something in Neil. </p><p>With a snort, Andrew shoved the pear at him and brought his other hand to his own mouth, fingers pressed together as he tapped his lips. “Eat.”</p><p>Neil rolled his eyes, but this time he smiled as he finally accepted the pear. He studied it for a long moment and Andrew wondered what he was thinking about. He wondered if the idiot knew that those smiles - the ones he gives so genuinely to Andrew even when he’s struggling to hold on to the here and now - were a lot like the glimmers of sun between the clouds of a storm, hinting at peace and gifting even monsters like himself with a hope he never thought he’d ever be able to touch.</p><p>Probably not, Andrew decided as Neil looked from him to the bench beside him questioningly. Andrew just patted the spot in invitation and the striker sat down beside him. For a moment they just sat there together, letting the world slowly assemble itself back into a recognizable picture. Something steady enough to wade through. Neil didn’t have to say anything for Andrew to understand why he was waiting to reenter the world and leave the locker room just yet. So he didn’t comment, he just waited patiently beside him. Neil still hadn’t taken a bite of the pear, but he had it in his hands and that was the first step. He’d prod him again once he was ready to leave. </p><p>*****</p><p>By the time Neil was ready to go, Andrew was pretty sure that they’d be able to walk out through the lobby without any more interference. Between the drama with the freshman boys, Neil’s longer shower afterward, and then the time they spent just waiting - he assumed that other than maybe Nicky, everyone would have had their own shit to get to. It wasn’t like they usually waited after anyway. Kevin had been the first one in and out of the locker room so that he could get to class early to prep for some kind of presentation for one of his history classes, so not even he would be lingering around. </p><p>He was wrong.</p><p>The fifth-year girls were all waiting for them with Nicky and an anxious-looking Matt Boyd when they finally emerged from the men’s locker room. Neil still hadn’t eaten his pear but instead had taken to rolling it in his hands the same way that Andrew liked to soften his ice cream, except he was hyper-focused on the motion like he could pour all of his tension into the fruit so he wouldn’t have to feel it himself. His anxiety was so tangible that Andrew thought that they probably should have hung out in the locker room for a little bit longer, especially since there was an entourage out here waiting for them, but it was too late now and it wasn’t like they could have stayed in there forever anyway.</p><p>With Neil being so on edge, Andrew’s own protective temper was rising beneath his skin - especially when the gathered Foxes all turned their attention on the two of them. He could feel the way Neil tensed beside him and before he even really thought about it he had two fingers resting lightly on the underside of one of his armbands, ready.</p><p>“Neil! Are you okay?!” Dan was hurrying forward. “Nicky said that - hey! What the fuck?!” Andrew was in the way with a knife in his hand before she could finish extending that reaching hand. She quickly snatched it back and half stumbled backward as Matt surged to his feet and Renee stiffened. Andrew didn’t give a damn - he’d already watched these fucking <i>Foxes</i> invade Neil’s personal space enough and it wasn’t going to happen when he was standing right here to fucking stop it. </p><p>“Don’t you fucking touch him,” he hissed, and he could hear that his voice was low and dangerous. </p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ, Minyard! I just wanted to help him. Something is clearly fucking wrong, here!”</p><p>“I don’t give a fuck what you want.” He lifted the knife in promise, flicking his attention to Renee when she stepped slowly forward to rest a hand on Dan’s arm.</p><p>“Dan would never mean to do something that could cause Neil distress, Andrew. She cares for him, like we all do.” He recognized that careful tone in her voice, he knew that under it she was assessing his threat and finding that those she protected were in very real danger if they did anything fucking stupid like try to touch Neil again. Except that he’d already told Renee to make the others give Neil space. And here was Dan reaching out to <i>fucking touch him</i>.</p><p>He let that accusation settle heavily in his gaze as he met her eyes. She lifted her chin in acknowledgment then returned her attention to Dan. </p><p>“Come on, Dan. Let’s go. I’m sure if Neil wants to talk to us about it he’ll come to us. He knows we’re here for him.” She spoke softly so it was less like she was talking over Neil while he was right there in the room with them, even though that was exactly what she was doing. It was better than her trying to actually talk <i>to</i> him though, when that would likely only cause him more stress, so Andrew was willing to accept it. </p><p>“But Renee! Look at--” She stopped when Renee squeezed her arm, then sighed. “Fine. Fine.” She turned back to them and looked right past Andrew to Neil, and he could feel his little rabbit tense under the scrutiny. “But we’re here for you, Neil. Really. I want you to come to us if you need anything, anything at all. We want to be there for you, we all do, but we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s going on. You--”</p><p>“That’s enough,” Andrew warned, pulling the other knife as casually as he could. </p><p>Dan snapped her mouth shut and turned her gaze, now furious, on to him. Andrew didn’t give a shit how pissed she was or whatever else she was feeling. He just wanted her to shut the fuck up and back the fuck off. Neil would be upset with him if he made her bleed all over the lounge, and he didn’t feel like upsetting Neil today. He would, if he had to, but he preferred not to.</p><p>Seeming to understand how dangerously close his sweetheart was getting to being sliced and diced, Boyd put his arm around Dan’s shoulders and murmured something against her ear. She grumbled but nodded, then let him and Renee tug her away. Andrew watched them for a moment, then put his knives away and returned to his place beside Neil to check in with him, needing to catalog the added tension so he could add it to what he owed those useless Foxes. </p><p>He didn’t notice that Allison Reynolds hadn’t fallen in with her pack until she spoke - but it wasn’t her that actually drew his attention when she did.</p><p>“Really, Monster?” she hissed with icy disdain. She was oblivious to the way that Neil froze beside him, but Andrew wasn’t. He turned to look at him directly and noticed at the clawed shift of his grip on the pear, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of the fruit with barely contained violence. Allison was still talking, until she suddenly wasn’t. </p><p>“And here we all thought that Neil was domesticating y--ah!”</p><p>Her words were cut off in a sudden shriek as a pear very suddenly exploded against the wall not two inches away from her stupid face. Andrew saw it as it was happening. He saw the clench of Neil’s jaw, the hunch of his shoulders. He saw the way his face snapped up and the way those <i>eyes</i> blazed with tempest fire - unforgiving, unrelenting, and surging with viciously bloody intent. All the muscles on one side of his body tensed, and then he was angling his body and the pear shot from his palm like a bullet from a gun. To say that the fruit <i>exploded</i> against the wall wasn’t an exaggeration, either. It hit the badly painted brick so fucking hard that if Neil had aimed it just two more angry little inches to the right and half an inch down, Reynolds’s windpipe would have been crushed and she’d have had to spend the rest of the season breathing through a tube. </p><p>No one really had the time to realize this, though, because Neil was in motion the second the pear left his hand. By the time everyone was registering what had just happened, he’d come to a halt right in front of the fifth-year defensive dealer, heavenly fury in human form, every inch of him a mile of height for the space his presence took up. </p><p>He shoved a finger in her face and growled one hissing, damning word.</p><p><i>”No.”</i> Then he whirled and was gone. Just like that, he took himself and all his rage out of the building in a whirlwind, leaving the rest of them floored in the wake of his judgment. </p><p>Silence echoed in the lobby like a gunshot. It was the negative imprint of the storm Neil’s vehement defense stirred up inside his chest, empty in all the places that Andrew was full, buzzing in all the recesses that Andrew couldn’t understand. </p><p>No one moved for a long, breathless moment, until Nicky finally let out a trembling sound that might have at one point been an attempt at a laugh. “Uh… well…”</p><p>The spell fractured and Dan looked to Andrew with a bewildered look - like he could somehow explain what the fuck just happened. She opened her mouth, but Andrew was quick to cut her off, buoyed by something hot and tangled and vibrating between his ribs - an energy he couldn’t have swallowed if he tried. </p><p>“Oh, I think Neil summed it up pretty well.” He smirked, he couldn’t fucking help himself, and lifted his chin. “‘No.’” </p><p>Then he, too, strolled out of the building, and damn it if it didn’t feel a little bit like there were clouds under his feet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Andrew thinks Protective Neil is rlly hot. Also, I've added an extra chapter to the plan *solely* because I randomly wrote that storm scene and decided to include it so everything had to get pushed back XD I hope it fits okay! Big stuff coming up! Next chapter we get to head to Eden's ^.^</p><p>Also, I bro-ship Nicky and Matt like SO HARD. I won't rant on it here, but it's a thing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Neil stands his ground for Andrew. We briefly skate through Friday then spend Saturday in Columbia.</p>
<p>Basically a lot of softness. It's a veritable marshmallow factory and I have no excuse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One day, I’m going to actually read through and edit before I post these chapters. Today is not that day, but I promise you it will happen. I’ll probably go back and edit all of them once I finish the whole thing ^^;</p>
<p>Again, thank you thank you thank you so so much for all of your comments and kudos!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neil didn’t really calm down for the rest of the day, and Andrew was more than happy to watch him take out his silent anger on the upperclassmen. He didn’t quite get it, why the idiot would be so angry at them on his behalf - but seeing as he wasn’t going to punish them appropriately for the shit they <i>actually</i> did he’d take what he could get. Besides, it was… it was <i>interesting</i>, having someone be so defensive on his behalf. It wasn’t something he was used to, and if he was being honest with himself - it felt good. It felt really damn good. </p>
<p>He made sure they saw him smirking when Matt and Dan stopped by the room during lunch only to have Neil glare at them in furious silence for a full two minutes before slamming the door in their faces. They both had a little bit of time once they finished eating and they used it to practice some more ASL. Andrew found memorizing the different signs and hand positions easier than learning correct pronunciation and verb conjugation when he’d been learning German - but he was struggling with the whole facial part of ASL.</p>
<p>Yeah, that was a thing. It apparently wasn’t just body posture and hand signs, but the whole face got brought into it too. Neil, being an asshole, seemed fascinated with this. Andrew was determined to ignore as much of the facial aspect of the language as possible.</p>
<p>“I like seeing you e-m-o-t-e,” Neil signed with a cheeky fucking grin, fingerspelling the last word since he didn’t know an appropriate sign yet. He had to admit, despite the awkwardness of movement and expression that was a part of the language, it was probably one of the easiest to jump into as long as you could memorize the alphabet quickly. Whenever you didn’t know a word, you could just spell it. Yeah, it was tedious sometimes, but they were already getting faster since Andrew had the advantage of an eidetic memory and Neil was an obsessive polyglot. </p>
<p>“Shut up, asshole,” Andrew deadpanned back in the same language, his hands sharp but his expression blank. Neil’s grin only broadened, so he flipped him off and went back to studying until it was time for both of them to head to class.</p>
<p>It was during dinner that Neil’s anger finally reduced to a simmer long enough to allow the Foxes some forward motion toward reconciliation. This was irritating to Andrew for a number of reasons, first and foremost that the stupid little rabbit had decided to include <i>him</i> in the whole process. Andrew had noticed that Neil had been spending an inordinate amount of time painstakingly jabbing out text messages on his phone since returning from his last class of the day (maybe it was time to consider them upgrading to some more modern phones - it would be useful being able to look up signs in ASL on the fly when he was away from his computer and if texting was going to become more prevalent for both of them it was something to think about) but he didn’t really think much of it until a knock on the door brought an entourage of irritants into his domain. </p>
<p>Nicky answered the door, but since this was clearly Neil’s fault Andrew let his gaze move from the gaggle of upperclassmen over to the idiot junkie and settle there. His expression remained blank but he knew that Neil was receiving his pointed disdain by the (definitely not cute) huff he made in response as he set his fork into his plate of plain spaghetti (also, who <i>the actual fuck</i> elects to eat plain spaghetti?) and looked expectantly over toward the others as they shuffled in and hovered awkwardly near the door. </p>
<p>Andrew let Neil feel the weight of his utter lack of amusement before turning his own gaze to the upperclassmen.</p>
<p>Dan was leading the charge, and her bluff of confidence was lacking more than usual - though that could have been because her pet behemoth could <i>not</i> stop fidgeting beside her. Reynolds looked the most reluctant to be there - understandable considering Neil had nearly done her in with a piece of fruit this morning. Renee, of course, was irritatingly calm nearby. Andrew was still upset with her, which she acknowledged with a nod when he settled his glare on her for an extra moment. </p>
<p>“Well…” Dan started awkwardly, making the others rustle around her. “Look, Andrew, we just wanted to say that we’re sorry for… uh… being so quick to always think the worst. You’re a part of this team, too, and even if we don’t always… <i>understand</i> each other… you deserve more than we’ve given you, especially recently.”</p>
<p>Andrew just stared at her and an awkward silence ensued that he felt no need to relinquish. </p>
<p>Dan gave Allison a meaningful look and the other woman sighed gustily, rolling her eyes before she finally looked at Andrew and spat out, “I’m sorry. I won’t call you ‘monster’ anymore. Even if it’s fitting.”</p>
<p>Andrew’s expression didn’t fluctuate, but he did look over at Neil briefly before settling his deadened stare back on the upperclassmen. “I don’t care.”</p>
<p>Reynolds rolled her eyes and threw up her hands as Dan and Matt both looked at Neil with something akin to pleading. It was <i>almost</i> amusing. Almost. </p>
<p>Neil looked at him until Andrew looked back. When their eyes met, Neil lifted his hands to sign, simply, “I do. You are <b>not</b> a m-o-n-s-t-e-r.” He signed ‘not’ with such vehemence that it was a wonder he didn’t pull something, his eyebrows drawing together in a deep frown as his lip peeled back in a silent snarl. Somewhere past his own apathy there was a stirring of… <i>something</i>. Andrew wasn’t exactly sure what it was, this feeling he got whenever Neil defended him. It felt hot, crackling like he’d swallowed some of this morning’s storm and it had somehow infected his blood. It made him uncomfortable because it was unknown and it was atypical and he was by-now conditioned to be wary of things that made him feel secure. </p>
<p>The realization that something Neil did made him feel <i>secure</i> was a blow he was unprepared for. Coming to terms with his own role in Neil’s security was one thing - it was a weird jump to go from being the physical barrier to an emotional support and he was still struggling with it, awkward in his handling of this fragile, precious thing. Admitting to himself that Neil was the same for him… that against his will he was beginning to accept that Neil was a reliable source for these defenses, that he could be trusted, that he could be <i>indulged in</i> and believed…</p>
<p>“Are they… using sign language? When did that happen?” Boyd’s too-curious tone broke through his minor crisis of self and he was almost grateful to him for the much more familiar and acceptable flush of irritated indignation that took its place. Almost. </p>
<p>“Keep your nose where it belongs, Boyd. Out of my business.” He let a small flex of his temper into his voice as he snapped his attention back to the nosy backliner. </p>
<p>“Jesus, Andrew. He was just asking a--”</p>
<p>“Ah,” Andrew cut her off, pointing his fork at her. “You really should start to remember all the trouble that questions get you in, Wilds.”</p>
<p>It was amusing to watch Dan fume, especially as she tried to wrestle back her own temper. Finally, with a deep breath that was in no way as calming as she must have hoped it’d be, she gritted out, “We aren’t here to fight. We’re a team, and Neil’s right that we can’t expect anything from you that we aren’t willing to give ourselves. So. We’re here to apologize and to say we’ll try to be better because we <i>know</i> better. Especially after all the shit from last year.” Andrew didn’t know whether she was referring to the drama with Kevin, the drama with Neil, or his own personal mess that they’d all gotten way too much insight into - but his minor amusement was killed by the reminder one way or another. </p>
<p>“Right,” he cut out sharply, stabbing his fork into his (thoroughly sauced) pasta, “well you’ve made your platitudes or whatever. Now get the fuck out.” Then he disowned them of his attention and shoved an overly large forkful into his mouth as his other hand picked up the remote and turned up the tv, just in case they didn’t get the message.</p>
<p>He didn’t pay attention to whatever their response was, but he did notice Neil getting up from his spot beside him and then returning a few moments later. He let the idiot stare at him (because of-fucking-course he was) all the way until the next commercial break before he finally turned to look at him. </p>
<p>“Don’t think this means anything. Not for me and not for them. They’re going to think what they think and I really don’t give a shit. You’re wasting your time and mine caring about it like this. Not to mention fruit.” His insides flipped and sighed and jolted with the storm still infused in his blood - the storm that probably had less to do with the weather and more to do with the blue of Neil’s eyes - as his rabbit just <i>looked</i> at him. It was the one that wasn’t quite a smile but also didn’t need to be. It was that look with the soft mouth and the tilted head and the eyes that said way too much for the man’s silence. </p>
<p>Neil lifted one hand and pressed two fingers to his own lips in request, then turned the hand to face him, bobbing a loose fist and then tapping his fingers and thumb together to define the question, all while giving him that <i>look</i>. “Yes or no?”</p>
<p>Andrew glared at him even as he said “yes”, and fuck his stupid stomach and his stupid lungs and his stupid heart that his stupid rabbit had no fucking right to have any fucking sway over - because when Neil leaned over and pressed soft lips to his cheek, the whole damn world disappeared for a solid two minutes. </p>
<p>He refused to even <i>entertain</i> the notion that the sudden heat crawling up his cheeks and warming his ears was a blush and pointedly ignored the strawberry ice cream delight on Neil’s lips as he instead turned almost violently back to the tv. He turned it up another few notches for good measure and attempted to let Gordon Ramsay scream some sense into him. Idiot sandwich indeed.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Game days were the most annoying days of the week to be a collegiate athlete. </p>
<p>First of all, it was bad enough to have to wear that eye-searing orange on the court, and being forced to tromp around campus in it should be considered a fucking crime or at the very least a safety hazard. His freshman year, Andrew had vehemently refused to take part in this ridiculous ritual both because he was vain enough to admit (to himself) that the orange ruined his aesthetic, and because apparently when you walked around in a sports jersey people suddenly thought they had the right to talk to you. Worse, some of them even thought it was acceptable to give unwarranted pats on the back and attempt to elicit high-fives. </p>
<p>Unfortunately, it was apparently important to the school board both that their athletes all partake in the disgusting display and that they not stab the rest of the student body. He couldn’t even be pissed with Wymack over it - he’d been in the room when the coach had attempted to convince the board to just let it go.</p>
<p>As it were, Andrew was forced to put up with ignorant coeds attempting to interact with him whenever they had a home game and this invariably always had him in a piss-poor mood. Really, and the Foxes fucking <i>wonder</i> why he couldn’t give two shits about playing with effort. Surely by now they understood that he ran on spite like the rest of them ran on coffee. </p>
<p>The day went by slowly because of the added irritation, and Andrew was almost relieved by the time it actually came for them to play if only because it meant that they were that much closer to the day finally being fucking over. After several weeks of staying in town so that Kevin and his pet junkie could get in extra weekend practices and Neil, in particular, could devote way too much time giving extra training to some of the newbies, Andrew and his group would be going out to Columbia for the first time in too long. </p>
<p>Nicky and Aaron had been whining about it for a while now and he knew they were looking forward to a night of letting loose at Eden’s - but Andrew was more thinking about finally having some fucking privacy. He probably only got through the hell of Friday because of vivid daydreams of a lazy Saturday morning. While the others would be sleeping off their hangovers until something around noon, he could maybe convince Neil to skip his morning run…</p>
<p>Andrew’s eyes fell on that particular junkie as the team lined up to head out to do their warm-ups. Neil had been an irritating bundle of nerves all day, anxious about the game and how shitty the team had been all week during practice. He was as inconsolable about the upcoming trainwreck of a game as Kevin was, despite both idiots knowing full well a rough start was to be expected with the Foxes. It was going to be like this every fucking year, no matter how far they got the year before and how skilled their players, as long as Wymack continued his one-man crusade to foster the most volatile rejects of the exy community. This year was bound to be <i>particularly</i> awful because of the combination of a monumental previous season and the induction of not one, not three, but <i>five</i> new disasters to the lineup. </p>
<p>Of-fucking-<i>course</i> this was going to be a shit show, and Andrew sure as fuck wasn’t going to help. It was best they learned their lesson and learned it quickly. </p>
<p>Thankfully, none of them were stupid enough to try and ask him for any favors.</p>
<p>The game more or less progressed as Andrew and everyone else with half a teaspoon of common sense had predicted: as a fucking disaster. Oh, they won, sure - but it wasn’t a win anyone except some of the idiot freshmen was pleased with considering they only won by a single point and it was against a team far inferior to their own even in its current state. Andrew did take a certain amount of satisfaction in the biting comments that Neil had for several of the freshmen during halftime, his buzzing exy-obsession-fueled agitation breaking through his verbal block long enough for him to reduce Jack and Bethany, the other freshman striker, to pea-sized receptacles of disappointment. </p>
<p>That was one thing he was appreciative for today; Neil, for all his being an utterly annoying pain in the ass about it, seemed more comfortable in his own skin between having to focus on his obsession and him actually having some kind of an outlet for when the words did get stuck between the remedial ASL they’d been learning and the opportunity to just throw himself into his sport. He wasn’t exactly sure how the junkie’s brain sorted and assembled it all, but Andrew could admit at least to himself that it was a relief to see things functioning. </p>
<p>At least he didn’t have to threaten to knock Kevin’s teeth in when the man dared to even <i>consider</i> staying in for another weekend so he could force the freshmen into extra practices. Neil shut that down on his own and they were at Sweetie’s by nine and Eden’s not too long afterward. </p>
<p>It was loud and awful at Eden’s, but in a way that was familiar - uncomfortable and crowded in a way that Andrew almost liked it. </p>
<p>“Fucking <i>finally!</i>” crowed Nicky as he and Neil returned from the bar with their usual tray of drinks. “Seriously my compadres, <i>seriously</i>, I have been needing this all week. All month. Since fucking <i>summer</i>, man. Promise me we’ll never go this long without an Eden’s trip ever again.” He tossed back two shots before pointing the empty second shot glass at each of them in turn, attempting to give his version of what Andrew was sure Nicky thought was a very serious expression. </p>
<p>Kevin snorted, already three deep into his own alcohol. “We needed the extra practice. Especially the freshmen. They’re fucking disgraceful.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, you think everyone is disgraceful so that doesn’t really count coming from you,” Nicky shot back almost affably with a shrug, ignoring the glare Kevin leveled at him in return. </p>
<p>“Bah! Come on you grumpy stud. Come dance with us this time around!” Nicky continued without missing a beat, tossing back another shot before sliding away from the table and tugging on the tall, brooding striker’s arm. Aaron was already on his way out to the dance floor without comment or backwards glance. </p>
<p>Kevin groaned in complaint, but he let Nicky tug him to his feet. “Why don’t you annoy Neil or Andrew to come dance with you?”</p>
<p>“Because Andrew might cut someone if he’s dragged onto a dance floor and he’ll definitely cut <i>me</i> if I lose the cutie-pie in a throng of eager bodies.” Nicky said it almost playfully, pouting and already dancing to the thrumming music - but he really wasn’t wrong. Kevin seemed to understand this, and maybe he was more desperate to unwind than usual, so after tossing back two more consecutive shots he allowed Nicky to drag him off, leaving Neil and Andrew alone at the table to guard their drinks.</p>
<p>Neil had been watching them in amusement, but once they were lost in the crowd Andrew felt the steady weight of his cool blue gaze against his cheek. He basked in it for a little while, allowing it to warm and settle him, before he turned to meet it. </p>
<p>“Staring,” he drawled lightly, his tone unaffected - or perhaps at most amused. </p>
<p>Neil smirked at him and leaned back in his seat, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. It was basically an invitation, Andrew thought - and so he took his time staring in return. He looked at the curve of Neil’s cheek and the long elegant line of his throat, the bump of his adam’s apple, how strong the muscles were. He let himself drink in the relaxed set of his shoulders and the small smile curved on his lips. Neil was bobbing his head every so slightly to the music, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the surface of the table. </p>
<p>It had been a stressful day - an impossible <i>week</i> - and Eden’s wasn’t exactly a respite for either of them, but it <i>was</i> a waystation of sorts. It meant that they would be at the house soon, in the room they now almost always shared, in the bed that felt better with Neil laying across from him. For Andrew, and he thought maybe for Neil as well, that was enough reason to allow himself to relax, just a little bit. </p>
<p>They would stay for a few hours and let the other three drink their stress away, then they’d work together to get them out to the car and then into the house. Andrew almost couldn’t remember what it was like to have to maneuver the three of them by himself and he would be glad to have Neil’s help with them later.</p>
<p>For now he kept vigil, and maybe if under the table he let his foot tap along to the thrum of the bass no one needed to know.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Andrew woke slowly on Saturday morning. He woke in stages, one sense at a time. First was the scent of clean sheets and citrus-scented soap on warm skin. Andrew breathed deeply and let the smell go right to his head. It was familiar, it was <i>good</i>, and he instinctively burrowed deeper against it. Next came the feel of something warm and heavy beside him, against him, curled under his arm and breathing deeply. Something with as many soft places as hard ones, something that felt so much like home it should have been alarming - but Andrew wasn’t awake enough for anything nearly that complex. </p>
<p>“Mm… ‘Drew..?” A soft, sleepy voice touched his ears next, followed by a grumble that sounded like it was resonating from his own chest as his body reflexively tightened around his warm, cozy prize. The sigh he got as a reward was quiet but so peaceful, so pleased, that his head felt a little bit light - and his tired mind wondered how a symphony could possibly have been contained in a single breath like that. Who was the composer to orchestrate such a ridiculous, perfect thing?</p>
<p>“Hm..” The warm, home-shaped thing shifted again in Andrew’s arms and he heard himself grunt in protest. A soft, sleep-peppered laugh rose up on an exhale and slowly, so slowly, Andrew peeled one eye open to glare at this disruption. </p>
<p>He saw auburn hair turned red in the sunlight. He saw dusty freckles that skipped down the line of a throat that had no right to look so strong, so pretty, and so edible at the same time. He saw the edge of a sharp jaw and just over the peak he saw the valley of soft lips, a curve of a smile quirked up into the corner of a mouth that Andrew would know by heart even if he had lost every other sense.</p>
<p>His mind was still catching up, slowly rising into consciousness and easily distracted by the gentle humming that resonated in that strong, pretty, edible throat. </p>
<p>Mm, and there was the taste of warm, soft skin. The perfect mix of shower-sweet and sleep-salted. A morning treat. His senses finally started to communicate with each other as he tasted his way up that perfect line offered up to him, as he both felt and heard the catch of breath - as he both saw and tasted the heat that rose to the surface of the skin under his attention, flushed a rose-petal pink by the time he had gotten high enough to nibble just at the back of Neil’s jaw.</p>
<p>Neil. </p>
<p>“Andrew…” He said his name in a sigh, like a promise and a plea, and Andrew thought that maybe if perfection existed it might just be in this exact moment. </p>
<p>Andrew closed his eyes again to preserve it, his arm tightening around Neil’s waist where he’d wrapped it last night when they’d decided to lay close together upon returning from Eden’s Twilight after getting the others settled safely. They’d both been tired, too tired to fool around past a few slow kisses, and yet had been unable to sleep. </p>
<p>After laying in their usual position facing each other for several long, restless minutes - both itching to touch each other in a way that Andrew could <i>only</i> ever have associated with Neil - Andrew had lifted his arm and offered a closer embrace to the other man. Breathing had been stifling and uncomfortable while they were face to face, but once Neil suggested he face the opposite direction, nestled back against Andrew’s chest in a similar position to how they’d occasional sat while watching tv in rare moments of privacy in the dorm, the both of them had almost immediately fallen asleep. </p>
<p>Andrew liked falling asleep facing Neil, if he was being completely honest. He liked watching the way Neil’s face slowly relaxed. He liked seeing how innocent he looked, even under all those scars, when he was lightly cradled by sleep. He liked being able to see immediately if something was wrong when the bed shifted because his fretful rabbit was having a nightmare. He liked being able to immediately know it was Neil in front of him when he was dragged bruskly back to consciousness by his own. </p>
<p>But… there was something to this too. There was something to waking to the senses of Neil, to having him solid and warm and smelling like home in his arms. </p>
<p>Andrew buried his face against Neil’s neck and inhaled deeply. When he let the breath out he could feel the way the sensation of it sent shivers down Neil’s spine and he reveled in this quieter sample of undoing. His lips found the increased patter of a pulse and he teased the spot lightly, first with the brush of his lips and then the swipe of his tongue before finally grazing his teeth over the warmed, softened spot. Neil shivered again, and Andrew could feel his hum of pleasure against his tongue. He locked his arm firmly around his now slightly squirming rabbit and set his teeth in a little bit more firmly, teasing the skin and sucking lightly on that playfully thumping pulse like it was his favorite sort of candy. </p>
<p>“Ah.. A-Andrew.. Mm..!”</p>
<p>This time, Andrew was the one that shivered, the slightly broken sound of Neil’s voice, rasped by sleep and need, caressing him like a physical touch hovering just above the skin just <i>waiting</i> for permission to connect. </p>
<p>Andrew bit his consent into the soft skin of Neil’s neck, branded it with a sweetened bruise, and was rewarded with the stroke of Neil’s moan. </p>
<p>He continued to tease and play at the spot even after he was satisfied, enjoying the way Neil sighed and shifted against him, the way he tilted his head and arched against him, <i>“Yes, yes yes, Andrew, yes,”</i> humming from his lips and echoed in every sound and twist of his body. He never moved his hands from where they were positioned - one curled around Neil’s waist and the other peeking out from under his pillow where it had been situated most of the night. There were still a few inches separating their hips and even with Neil’s slight squirming he never attempted to close that distance, and neither did Andrew. </p>
<p>Finally, when the buzzing ache in his shoulder became too much to ignore, Andrew pressed a firm kiss to his impromptu playground and pulled back. He didn’t bother to swallow the smirk that rose unbidden at Neil’s soft, disappointed little whine. </p>
<p>“Andrew… Fuck…” Neil groaned softly as he rolled onto his back while Andrew sat up. This wasn’t a question, or even really a statement, so Andrew didn’t answer - just raised a brow down at him as he rolled his shoulder and flexed his arm. </p>
<p>Neil immediately shifted his attention to the movements and gave a small frown, pushing up to his elbows. “You alright?”</p>
<p>Andrew gave a shrug. “Just a little stiff.” He gave him a pointed look. “You’ve got a pretty big, fat head for a rabbit.”</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up.” The words were grumbled and accompanied with a pillow aimed at his head, but there was no actual heat behind them. Besides, Andrew was able to block the pillow easily enough. “And I’m not a rabbit.”</p>
<p>There was no dignified answer to <i>that</i> so Andrew didn’t bother, he just finished stretching and moved to get out of bed. Behind him, he heard the rustling of Neil doing the same. They both gathered themselves, then took turns in the bathroom before making their way together down to the kitchen, where they wordlessly split the task of assembling some sort of breakfast. Andrew handled the toast, coffee, and the gathering of things for eggs while Neil did the actual cooking of some sausage and eggs. </p>
<p>As he finished up the cooking, Andrew went out for a morning smoke and when he came back there were two plates ready - as well as two prepared mugs of coffee. He was reminded of earlier this week, when Neil had prepared and hidden him a cup of coffee, and he let the warmth gather in his chest this time. This time, when he picked up the mug, he paused a moment to also lean over and press a light, chaste kiss to Neil’s lips. </p>
<p>He didn’t need to look at his rabbit’s face to know that there was that <i>look</i> taking up residence in the softness of his mouth and the sea-swell of his eyes, but he did anyway. He was able to hold it for a while two heartbeats before he looked away with a snort. </p>
<p>“Eat your damn breakfast,” he grunted out as he picked up his own fork.</p>
<p>Neil didn’t respond, his smile shifting sideways into a playful strawberry-shortcake smirk.</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>After a dinner of pizza and homemade mixed drinks on Saturday night, the group spread themselves around the house to either do some homework, play video games, or generally avoid the rest of the assholes in residence. They’d be heading back to campus the next morning with the aim of getting there before eleven so that Aaron could meet up with his little girlfriend (Andrew also had a standing appointment with Renee) and Neil could join Dan and Matt for some kind of movie marathon of classics he dared to miss out on while being chased across the world by his murdering psychopath of a sperm donor. </p>
<p>Even so, Andrew was almost surprised that by the time midnight came around he and Neil were the only ones left awake, sitting on opposite ends of the couch in the living room as Neil pretended to do his homework and Andrew pretended to watch tv. He could tell that Neil had been working up to say something for the latter part of the day but like his rabbit knew not to push with him, he was content to wait until Neil figured out what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. If and when he was ready, he’d come to him - and if he wasn’t then it wasn’t Andrew’s business to pry. </p>
<p>When Andrew pushed off the couch and headed outside to the porch for a cigarette, Neil didn’t immediately follow and Andrew didn’t wait for him. He was already finishing up his first cigarette when he sensed Neil step silently out into the night and still he sank into his patience and leisurely finished out the smoke without paying him any attention until Neil decided to draw it to himself. </p>
<p>It took a few minutes, then Neil stepped up to settle into his familiar place beside him. </p>
<p>"It started as a nightmare."</p>
<p>Neil's voice was quiet, but it was sure - there was no hesitance, no trepidation in the admission. Andrew looked over at him but didn't say anything. Instead, he picked up his pack of cigarettes and shook out two more. The first he lit and then passed over to Neil before getting his own situated.</p>
<p>A few comfortable minutes of silence passed as they both fed their habits in their own ways. When Neil started to speak again, Andrew slowed his smoking and listened, his expression in a blank neutral. There was no horror Neil could reveal that would shake him, they both knew that.</p>
<p>"It wasn't anything I hadn't dreamed before, you know? But when I woke up... I'd never felt that overwhelmed before." Neil wasn't breathing in his smoke anymore, he was just watching it rise up from the cherry of his cigarette, reading memories in the rising curl of gray. "It was like... like the whole... the whole <i>weight</i> of everything was sitting on my chest. It was hard to even breathe. I've spent my whole life running, you know? Hiding, then running. And then I came here and I stopped running, I stopped hiding, I started figuring out who I wanted to be and I turned that person into Neil Josten."</p>
<p>There was a sardonic comment burning at the back of his tongue about how he doubted it was a <i>choice</i> as much as a lack of impulse control - considering all the shit the idiot got himself into due him being unable to shut his damn mouth, but he managed to swallow that down with some impressive self-censure.</p>
<p>A slight huff told him that Neil was probably thinking along similar lines, and then the scars on his idiot's cheek scrunched up in a half-grin as he looked over at him.</p>
<p>"Okay," he conceded, "maybe I didn't fully <i>decide</i> who Neil Josten ended up becoming. Maybe it just happened."</p>
<p>"Don't talk about yourself in the third person, it's creepy," Andrew reprimanded with a steely gaze.</p>
<p>Neil rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. I spent so long... I spent so long not being a real person that I kinda didn't even realize it was happening until suddenly here I was. I was able to be Neil Josten in more than just a name on a fake ID. I think I went into it knowing that I was going to die, even back then. I knew I was never going to be able to run once I started. Making the choice to come to PSU and play exy? It was going to be my swan song." He tore his fingers through his hair in a violent motion that made Andrew want to grit his teeth, but he made himself remain passive, just watching, waiting, listening.</p>
<p>"Then things just... got out of hand. And when I started getting that countdown..."</p>
<p>Another silence descended between them. This one was heavier, and Neil filled it by bringing his cigarette to his lips and smoking it steadily, filling his lungs with breath after breath of hot, buzzing smoke. He smoked it all the way down to the filter and Andrew had another one ready for him when he flicked it into the ashtray. He lit the fresh cigarette for him as Neil kept it balanced between his lips. He smoked this one, too, but started to talk again after a few slow, deep drags.</p>
<p>"I knew it was going to be over. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. I knew that trying was only going to make it harder in the end and I just... If that time was going to be my only chance to be <i>real</i>, I wanted to use it, you know?" Andrew watched as Neil stared at his cigarette, he watched as he took another deep breath - as if he could somehow use the smoke to ignite whatever it was inside his chest that was making him feel so unsettled in his own skin, as if he could burn it all away with a breath and an ember.</p>
<p>It didn't work like that, though. They both knew that - but Andrew still felt angry about it. There was nothing he could do about how Neil had felt during that time, but he hated hated <i>hated</i> that it was still haunting him. If anyone understood about lingering pasts, though, it was him.</p>
<p>Neil took a cleaner breath, deep but far shakier. "Then, you know, it was over. The day came. I said goodbye as best I could. I thought I was ready, that I could just be grateful for even getting the chance to have that time with everyone." His voice got softer, it became fragile, and Andrew had the distinct impression Neil was remembering what it felt like to watch his own heart break in slow motion as he said, "...the time I'd had with you."</p>
<p>His own steady apathy broke at that and he felt his jaw twitch with how hard he was clenching it. He knew his free hand was similarly curled taut into a fist, if only because he had to stop the other so it wouldn't crush his cigarette.</p>
<p>Too vividly, Andrew remembered the horror of last spring. He didn’t remember it as a date or even as a singular event any more than he remembered it as the overwhelming saturation of panic that had flooded his veins when he realized that Neil was gone, gone gone, missing, <i>gone.</i> Time hadn’t registered, not really, while Neil was missing. Everything had become so loud, too loud, that it had all merged together into a single deafening roar until there was nothing at all. Like a cold so deep it burned, Andrew’s whole world had built into an intolerable cacophony so jumbled and manic that it was like he’d been plunged into a terrible, bitter silence instead. Something too quiet, too empty, and hauntingly, <i>painfully</i> alone. </p>
<p>Sometimes, when he woke in his loft back in the dorm room and could not immediately see Neil where he lay in the bunk below his, that panic would resurge - hot and vicious like bile in his throat. Shaking, he would have to drag himself to the edge and battle the vertigo caused by the recognition of his distance to the ground in order to tilt his head down and make sure that Neil was, in fact, still there and not whisked away into the night by unknown assailants. </p>
<p>Or that he hadn’t run in another stupid, reckless attempt to save them all. </p>
<p>Andrew did not like to think about these things. He did not like to acknowledge that they still haunted them. Not to Neil, not to Bee, not even to himself if he could fucking avoid it. And certainly as fuck not right now. The idea that as Neil had struggled with the knowledge of his own impending death, as he forced himself to accept it, he’d been thinking about how grateful he was to have any time at all to spend with him, with <i>him</i>...</p>
<p>That was a feeling too big to contain inside his chest, and he wasn’t sure he could if he tried. He tried to release some of it through his fingers as he fiddled with his lighter while every muscle in his body attempted to help swallow the rest back down. </p>
<p>Still, he didn't interrupt. He didn't think he'd ever be able to let himself cut off Neil's words when he willingly opened up to him like this.</p>
<p>"There was never an option for this. For an... for an 'after'. I don't know how to do this." Now his words were sharp, angry, half-snarled and almost desperate - something between an accusation and a plea. Andrew remembered saying the same thing to Bee, except where Andrew had been talking about caring for another person, Neil was talking about <i>living</i>. The fact that these two concepts were still so fucking close to being the same, at least in the dark little place he kept his secret heart, rocked him more than a little - but he held his ground.</p>
<p>"I don't know how to be <i>real</i>" Neil said quietly, and his voice was so fucking shaky Andrew held his own breath. "I don't know how to move forward like I have a life ahead of me when all I've ever done is <i>survive</i>. I didn't realize it would be so different, but... I'm..." His voice broke and Andrew's muscles tensed at the sound. He still didn't say anything, but he took a deep drag of his cigarette and took a deliberate step closer to him, leaning forward against the railing on his forearms. They were close enough to touch and after a moment, he erased that distance and let their arms press lightly together.</p>
<p>Neil took a shuddering breath and leaned into him. "I feel lost," he confessed after he had gathered himself enough to continue. "And sometimes, sometimes it just gets to be too much. I've been pushing through it, more or less, for months now - but when I woke up the other day I was just... frozen. I laid there for hours, you know? Finally, I calmed down and was able get myself moving again, but it was like... I dunno if I can even fully explain it." He let out a frustrated sigh and Andrew watched those elegant hands, scarred and calloused and too-mindful for all of his hurts, clench tight enough that the knuckles turned white even in the dim yellow glow of the porch light.</p>
<p>"You don't have to," Andrew said then. When Neil looked at him, he only rose a brow, then he lifted his free hand and flicked his idiot on the forehead, making him scowl - but it cleared some of that wrecked haze from those destructive blue eyes. "I'm serious. What did I tell you? You don't owe shit to anyone. You don't have to explain. You went through shit, and now your life is all sorts of fucked up. Just because it's <i>better</i> doesn't mean you're not allowed to be struggling with it." Because it wasn't necessarily what happened to him that Neil was struggling with, it was the aftermath. It was the fact that after nineteen years of surviving until death, then actually <i>facing</i> that death, Neil had somehow, miraculously, impossibly, come out on the other side and he just... couldn't process it.</p>
<p>Andrew didn't blame him, that was one hell of a mindfuck.</p>
<p>Neil sighed and tilted his head back, searching the inky black of the sky above them like maybe the stars had some answers for him. "I feel... ungrateful. Guilty. It's a new feeling for me and I don't like it, but I can't fucking get rid of it either. I know I'm fucked up but like, no one is trying to kill me anymore. Things are good. So... why..?"</p>
<p>Andrew really, really hated the fucking Foxes. Their good intentions could go to fucking hell. They thought they were supporting Neil by reminding him that he could be normal now, by telling him over and over again that they just wanted him to be okay, that <i>they</i> wanted him to be happy and normal and fine. Where the fuck did they think <i>he</i> got it from, huh? Neil adored his Foxes, he'd do anything for them, and for all that they refused to accept his bullshit "I'm fine" any more than Andrew did - they still somehow expected him to get there.</p>
<p>Except this was something he couldn't do, and he'd destroy himself trying.</p>
<p>"You don't owe shit to <i>anyone</i>, Neil," he growled out, and had to force himself to take a slow breath. Neil was looking at him now, searching his face and reading the frustration and rage there. But Neil knew him, and he knew that Andrew didn't expect anything from him that wasn't the honest truth of any given moment. That painful, beautiful streak of concern lighted in his eyes, but there was no guilt, no apology - and that more than anything else settled the demon in his skin. For now. But he still felt woefully inept when it came to helping Neil with this. He could listen, he could be there for him. He could be that physical wall and... he was learning that he could be an emotional support for him too.</p>
<p>But he didn't know how to help him wrestle with his identity - with the overwhelming realization that he was allowed to <i>have</i> an identity.</p>
<p>He considered his next words carefully before he said them, and he kept his tone measured but serious. "Neil, I'm not going to push you - and after this I won't bring it up again unless something significant happens - but have you considered talking to a professional about all of this?" He knew Neil was listening to him when he didn't immediately scoff, knew that maybe Neil <i>had</i> thought about it when his fractured rabbit only looked down at the midnight-shadowed grass beyond the porch.</p>
<p>"It doesn't have to be Bee, if you really don't like her. But I could ask her for recommendations."</p>
<p>Neil was quiet for a while, during which he finished off his cigarette and discarded the deadened filter. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but it didn't tremble. "You trust her."</p>
<p>"I do."</p>
<p>"That means something to me."</p>
<p>Something lodged in his throat with a tether that linked all the way back to his chest and it tugged with each suddenly loud beat of his heart. Andrew swallowed, then he nodded. "I know," he acknowledged.</p>
<p>"I don't know that I could do it on my own," Neil admitted - and this time his voice was shadowed with a shame that made Andrew want to punch something. Then curb-stomp it. Then feed it its teeth with a knee to the fucking mouth.</p>
<p>Instead, he said, far calmer than he thought he was capable of. "I'll go with you, if you want. I won't sit in the room with you if you don't want me to. I could wait in the lobby, or if it'll help I'll guard the damn door."</p>
<p>"...and if I did?"</p>
<p>"Did what?"</p>
<p>Neil paused, then looked over at him, and there was that openly vulnerable look in his eyes again - wary in a way that Andrew wasn't used to seeing with Neil. As if he was afraid of what Andrew's answer would be.</p>
<p>"If I wanted you in the room with me?"</p>
<p>Ah. Neil didn't want to ask too much of him. Stupid, idiotic little rabbit - still thinking of Andrew when he should think about himself for fucking <i>once</i>.</p>
<p>"Then I'll be there with you, as long as you promise to kick my ass out if my being there starts to feel uncomfortable."</p>
<p>Neil studied him for a long moment, those blue eyes searching, searching, searching. Then he let out a sigh and his whole body relaxed enough that he reflexively leaned more heavily against Andrew's arm, head bowing to rest briefly on his shoulder before he realized what he was doing and pulled back. Andrew caught him with a snort, his arm lifting so he could wrap a hand loosely around the side of is idiot's head and pull it back down to his shoulder.</p>
<p>"It's fine," he grunted as he indulged in the softness of Neil's hair for a moment before letting his hand drop. With his other, he got himself another cigarette and lit it one-handed. "I can text Bee, if that's what you want." Neil didn't say anything but he nodded firmly enough for it to be clear permission. Andrew hummed and took a slow drag of his cigarette, thinking. "You want to wait a while, or see if she can get us in on Monday?"</p>
<p>Neil thought a moment, then sighed. "Monday. I'll only psyche myself out if I put it off."</p>
<p>Andrew nodded, privately agreeing. His rabbit may have turned over a new leaf, but his impulse to run away was still going to drive him up the wall for as long as he ended up waiting. It was better to jump right in and see what happened.</p>
<p>If Neil was surprised when Andrew pulled out his phone then and there, he didn't comment.</p>
<p>
  <i>can u fit me + neil in on mon?</i>
</p>
<p>Despite the late hour, his response came only a few minutes later.</p>
<p>
  <b>Of course. I have an 8am and a 2:30pm open. Is there anything specific I should know before?</b>
</p>
<p>"She's got an eight o'clock opening and a two-thirty opening."</p>
<p>"We'd have to leave practice early for the eight o'clock one..."</p>
<p>Andrew snorted. "It's your choice, Josten. Do you want to go first thing in the morning or wait for half the day?"</p>
<p>Neil glared up at him, but the expression was so familiar that Andrew had to resist the impulse to smirk. He apparently didn't resist hard enough because Neil then rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>"Do the two-thirty one. I'd rather miss a bit of class than half of morning practice."</p>
<p>How had he known? "Fucking junkie."</p>
<p><i>230.</i> He paused before adding: <i>its for neil. he agreed to come in b/c of the shit going on. he asked me to come w him</i></p>
<p>
  <b>Does he like hot chocolate?</b>
</p>
<p>Thank fuck for Bee. He knew Bee would do right by Neil, and if they didn't work out - she'd help him find someone who would. He believed that. A knot of tension, of worry, of <i>oh fuck am I doing the right thing?</i> loosened in his chest.</p>
<p>
  <i>nah. weirdo hates sweets. ill make sure to bring some tea he likes.</i>
</p>
<p>Then, because he figured Bee was going to need all the help she could get, he sent a follow-up:</p>
<p>
  <i>he'd get a kick out of ur fox mug, esp if u let him use it</i>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Hearing you loud and clear :) Anything else I can do for you guys tonight?"</b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>get some fukin sleep u insomniac</i>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Of course. Goodnight, Andrew. :)</b>
</p>
<p>Andrew flipped his phone shut and pushed it back into his pocket. "We're all set." When Neil nodded, Andrew let himself lean his head over to rest his cheek on Neil's hair - just for a few minutes. He let himself accept this, he let himself appreciate it, let himself feel grateful for Neil's trust in him.</p>
<p>"Come on, junkie," he said after a little while, ruffling Neil's hair as he pulled away. "I'm not carrying your ass back inside if you fall asleep out here."</p>
<p>Neil rolled his eyes but he caught the tired smile on his face. Together they headed back into the house and after a round of checking all the doors and windows to make sure they were secure, they went up to Andrew's bedroom together. They didn't do more than share a single kiss before settling under the covers, but when Neil left one hand in the comfortable space between them, palm up, and met his eyes in silent question - Andrew took it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next up: Monday therapy! Yay! Then a little bit of time-skipping as we come to the end. Depending on how finishing the last couple of scenes go, I may add in an epilogue, but either way we're almost to the end of 'say something'. You may have noticed that there is now a series, and that's because I've got some one-shots written from other POVs that take place during (and a little bit after) the main story and I wanted to make sure they were clearly associated. I'll start posting those once I've finished up the story here. </p>
<p>Anyway! I hope you enjoyed! ^_^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Andrew has his own little freakout over phones; there is a joint session with Bee, Neil, and Andrew; and Andrew expresses himself in multiple ways.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can’t believe I did this. *channeling Rapunzel* <i>I can’t believe I did this!!!!!</i></p><p>Seriously my friends. I started this thing 16 days ago. I posted the first chapter 15 days ago. It literally took over my brain. Thank you so so so so so so much for all your kudos and your comments and your encouragement and your love - you have NO idea what it means to me. This is the first time I've actually let people read my writing since... 2009? </p><p>ANYWAY. I'm not gonna get weepy about it. I hope you enjoy the final chapter of 'say something'. I am not done with this little universe, though, because I have NO CLUE how to quit while I'm ahead. ^^; I have some 'deleted scenes' that I'll be posting as one-shots from Andrew's POV and I also have a bunch of other little snippets that I'll be polishing up and posting that are from other POV's (Bee, Matt, and Katelyn for sure).</p><p>Um.. so, here it is! I truly hope you enjoy it! Let me know ^.^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Sunday, while Neil had his little movie date with Wilds and Boyd and the rest of his family was otherwise occupied (Aaron with his little cheerleader, Kevin attempting to catch up on homework, and… actually, he really didn’t want to know what Nicky was doing while he had the dorm to himself), Andrew took a solo trip to the mall. He spent a little bit of time in one of his preferred stores, acquiring himself a new shirt and also assembling another new outfit for Neil since the junkie still couldn’t figure out how to dress himself. After that he wandered a little bit, mostly just killing time, before making the cell phone store his final destination. </p><p>It was a quick visit, in which the longest part was him having to wait as the sales associate set up the two new phones he’d selected. They weren’t as fancy as some of the other Foxes had, but they could do everything that your average smartphone was supposed to do. He’d initially intended just to get them phones with better texting functionality, maybe those slide-up ones with a full qwerty keyboard, but in a moment of weakness he’d selected the smartphones instead solely because of their greater ability to take and show pictures. </p><p>It was stupid, really. Andrew had an eidetic memory. His <i>brain</i> was a fucking camera. Still, something undefinable fidgeted under his skin whenever he saw the Foxes taking their pictures and sharing them with each other. That feeling only grew more uncomfortable whenever he watched Neil lean in to look at the pictures, or when he caught him flipping through all the pictures of the Foxes on Matt’s or Nicky’s phones. </p><p>By the time he’d pulled the Maserati into the parking lot at Fox Tower, he was able to rationalize to himself that it was really fucking obvious that Neil wished he could be in on the picture thing and that his decision had absolutely nothing to do with his own feelings about having pictures on hand. This, he decided, was about giving Neil physical proof that he was a person now, that he had a family. It had nothing at all to do with himself.</p><p><i>Nothing at all.</i> </p><p>Bee would probably have something to say about all of that, a thought that irritated him even more when he realized that he’d be seeing her <i>tomorrow</i>. Except tomorrow was Neil’s session, and he was only a guest there. He wasn’t even there in the same capacity that Aaron had hopped in on his own Wednesday sessions - since the purpose of those had become to try and work through their issues with each other. No, Monday was all about Neil and Andrew was there as some kind of moral support. </p><p>Andrew much preferred the irritation to the sober stone that sank into his stomach now in its place. It spun and twisted and pushed steadily through each one of his defenses on its way down, and it was alarming how quickly his walls were crumbling under its assault. </p><p><i>What if he only made it worse? What if he said the wrong thing? What if he <b>didn’t say</b> the right thing?</i> Neil had finally - finally - agreed to try therapy and there was this sick, anxious feeling that started too high on his body to be his stomach but too low to be his throat that twisted his certainty and dread together around the notion that if this fell through, Neil might never try again and that <i>scared</i> him. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it did, because he knew exactly where <i>he</i> would be if it hadn’t been for Bee and he’d already allowed himself to face the truth that he’d do just about anything to see that Neil never got there himself. Oh, he hadn’t come to terms with it, but he knew it was there. </p><p>And now, here was a chance for Neil to take a step that Andrew felt in his <i>bones</i> would help him - and it would be way too fucking easy for Andrew to fuck it all up.</p><p>Despite what some might think, Andrew wasn’t used to <i>worrying</i> about fucking shit up. He’d long ago come to accept the fact that he was a monster and a disaster and everything he touched was going to fucking fall apart anyway, so it was easier to just accept it and move on. He didn’t have the time to waste on worry. Worry meant that you <i>cared</i> and when you cared that meant you were vulnerable and when you were vulnerable that meant that people would hurt you. Usually, that hurt would come directly from the focus of that stupid, misguided <i>care</i> that young Andrew had had to very quickly learn to squash. </p><p>Except for the one time he failed. </p><p>Wait. </p><p>Not just once.</p><p><i>Twice,</i> the phone in his hand mocked him from where he’d been inputting all relevant contacts. He’d gone straight up to the dorm upon returning to the Tower. Neil was still off with his Foxes and Nicky had shut himself into the bedroom (Andrew had very pointedly turned away from the door when he’d heard murmured German through it - unwilling to linger closeby long enough to actually pick up what his cousin was saying, knowing who he was talking to) while Kevin was still out, likely at the library. So Andrew had settled on the couch, turned the tv on without paying attention to it, and had begun going through the process of getting his and Neil’s new phones set up appropriately. He’d figured that it was best he knew how everything with them worked, as well, because it was entirely likely that Neil would have no fucking clue. </p><p>And now he was staring at the phone in his hand and his knuckles were white as he squeezed it so hard the plastic creaked. </p><p>He almost broke the damn thing. Almost shoved it back into its stupid box and hauled ass back to the mall to return them, say fuck it, and demand that they reassign his and Neil’s numbers back to their old phones. Neil would never have to know. He kept his phone on him (mostly) and (usually) charged only because he, Wymack, and some of the others regularly insisted on it - but since he’d been occupied all day it wasn’t like he was using it. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left it laying around in the dorm somewhere and hadn’t even taken it with him down the hall to Matt’s room for the stupid movie marathon. </p><p>Andrew was already moving, though he hadn’t realized it. Both phones and their boxes ended up in the bag, his feet were jammed into his shoes without bothering to fix the heels to put them fully on, and he was halfway down the hallway before his brain caught up to his body’s instincts. The moment it did, he forced himself to stop but he couldn’t allow himself to linger - especially not in the fucking hallway - so he changed directions and went to the roof instead.</p><p>He and Bee had come up with a number of different thought, physical, and breathing exercises for when he realized that he was acting in some way that was triggered or in response to one of his myriad of traumas. After chain smoking through half a pack of cigarettes, he started to go through those exercises one by one. He told himself that if, by the time he’d gone through all of them, he still wanted to return the phones then he would.</p><p>A sharp chime broke him out of a breathing exercise so violently that he almost chucked the bag over the edge of the roof anyway. He jerked the offending phone out of the bag as he bullied his heart rate back into compliance and unlocked the screen, staring down at Renee’s text. </p><p>
  <b>Hey :) Are we still meeting today?</b>
</p><p>A quick glance to the time at the top of the screen told him that he was over twenty minutes late to meet up with Renee for their usual Sunday beat-down. There was also a flare of annoyance that Neil would probably call ‘amusement’ when he noticed that Renee’s smiley face now presented as a cat-shaped emoji. He’d already opened up the emoji menu to see if there were fox ones, since Neil would undoubtedly want to use those, when he realized what he was doing and forced himself to stop before he embarrassed himself further. Instead, he returned to the keyboard and typed out a quick response.</p><p>
  <i>Yeah. Lost track of time. I’ll be down in 5</i>
</p><p>He sent the text and then frowned at the uppercase letters and the uninvited apostrophe that autocorrect had so helpfully added in without his consent. Well, that would have to fucking go. </p><p>
  <b>Okay! :) See you soon.</b>
</p><p>It took closer to ten minutes for Andrew to meet up with Renee because it had taken more than half that time for Andrew to figure out how to turn off the autocorrect. He’d refused to open the browser and use Google to look up the process, because fuck this stupid phone. </p><p>When Andrew showed up to meet Renee with the two new phones naked in his hands she only smiled that stupid smile she got whenever she thought Andrew was doing something interesting. It was annoyingly similar to the one that Bee wore whenever she waxed on poetically about his <i>growth</i>. Still, at least he could trust her not to comment as they spent the first twenty minutes of their time going through the phones so that Renee could show him how to take and share pictures and how to fuck around with the settings in the messenger app. When he had her show him how to change his emojis to cats (only because they looked less stupid than the weird yellow faces), he tossed her Neil’s phone and told her to pick something for him too.</p><p>Renee, never one to disappoint, set it to foxes. </p><p>*****</p><p>When Neil had eventually made his way back to the dorm after dinner on Sunday night, Andrew had tossed him the new phone without saying a word and put up with Neil’s stupid face for all of about a minute before making a tactical retreat to the bedroom. When the stupid rabbit (<i>that</i> was what he fucking should have had Renee set the emoji’s too, dammit; ah well, he could swipe the damn thing later and do it himself) followed him a few minutes later, Andrew took advantage of the momentary privacy to push Neil against the wall. Then he kissed him until both of them were struggling to remember whether the inhale came first or the exhale. </p><p>(Breathing out on empty lungs didn’t exactly seem right but it felt similar to the aching need to <i>touch</i> that Neil inspired in him, and breathing in when his lungs were already filled with air had a similarly dizzying overfull sensation that he also associated with Neil whenever his stupid little idiot sighed his name or leaned into his hand or <i>looked</i> at him in that fucking way that he did.)</p><p>Andrew wanted to do a lot more than kiss him, but he was still raw from his internal panic about the phones (oh, the irony wasn’t lost on him there - he was just choosing to ignore it) and he knew his limits well enough to know that while his body wanted nothing more than to hold Neil against the wall, sink to his knees, and watch up the toned line of his body as his idiot tried to swallow down all of those perfect little sounds as he took him apart one inch at a time - that just wasn’t something that he was in the right headspace for today. He was equal parts grateful and furious with Neil for his easy acceptance when Andrew eventually shoved away and disappeared into the bathroom. </p><p>And so, Sunday ended without fanfare - and Monday arrived quietly the next morning. Neil, for all intents and purposes, seemed normal. There was no visible apprehension in him about the session with Bee later that afternoon and while Andrew still noticed a few of those new little nervous ticks and tells (the way Neil would scratch lightly at his throat or his jaw would tense like he was chewing the inside of his cheek when he had something to say but was having to fight with himself to actually <i>do</i> it) he appeared to be able to hold onto most of his words throughout morning practice and was making a concerted effort to talk to each of the Foxes. Andrew hated that he felt like he <i>had</i> to, but he knew better than to say that to Neil. </p><p>He did suspect that some sort of conversation had happened with Boyd and Wilds on Sunday, though, because both of them seemed more conscious than usual. Boyd actually stopped himself from excitedly chattering over Neil at least twice that Andrew saw (from where he definitely wasn’t watching Neil across the weight room, he just happened to be looking that way while putting in his reps), which was twice more than he ever had before. A small part of him was tempted to ask Neil about it later, but a much larger part just really couldn’t be bothered - especially considering the appointment with Bee today. </p><p>By the time said appointment rolled around at two-thirty that afternoon, Andrew had all but forgotten about (read: repressed) his worry from the day before. Neil was jittery enough for the both of them, anyway. Not that he <i>looked</i> nervous. No, Neil didn’t really showcase his uncertainty like that. At least, he didn’t to anyone other than Andrew. For everyone else Neil affected a certain aggressive blankness that was unique to him and him alone. Neil was honestly the only person he’d ever met that could appear utterly relaxed and passionless and simultaneously give the distinct impression that he wouldn’t hesitate to reach down your throat and yank out your spleen through your mouth. </p><p>This was the general vibe that he was giving off as the two of them stepped into the health center and headed for Bee’s office. </p><p>Andrew didn’t know what to say to help him relax, so he didn’t bother trying, he only led him to the door and then knocked. He ignored the sharp glare that Neil shot him, keeping his gaze trained on the door until it opened to reveal Bee. She was wearing a gray and blue plaid dress today with a white cardigan, her long brown hair pulled over one shoulder in a braid that showcased the silver running through it nicely. He approved. Bee could be hit or miss with her attempts at fashion and he was always in search of good influences for his idiot. </p><p>“Andrew, Neil. It’s good to see you both. Please, come right on in.” She was wearing her calming smile, but it didn’t seem to have the same effect on Neil as it did on him and just about everyone else. If anything, his rabbit seemed even more suspicious. Andrew sighed inwardly but didn’t say anything, just moved into the room and took his usual place on the couch. Neil silently took the other corner of it, where Aaron usually sat during their joint sessions. </p><p>Bee was already busying about getting the cocoa ready in his usual cat mug and a bee-shaped one that had to be new. Andrew wondered if she’d gotten it so all three of them could have character mugs, since she’d be offering the fox one to Neil. He’d have to ask her later.</p><p>“I remember you saying that you weren’t fond of sweets, Neil, but perhaps you’d like some tea?”</p><p>Before Neil could protest, Andrew pulled a ziploc with a few teabags of the tea Neil always drank when he was having trouble sleeping because of nightmares or lingering memories. He ignored the way Neil’s gaze caught and locked onto him as he realized what he had in his hand, and instead just leaned forward to pass it to Bee. “A hundred and eighty degrees, not boiling.” And it was only supposed to steep for about four minutes, but he’d keep track of that if Neil didn’t. </p><p>Now it was Bee’s turn to be ignored, because she was giving him a stupid little knowing smile as she accepted the ziploc and exchanged it for his cocoa, then went about refilling the electric kettle and setting the temperature.</p><p>He took the moment to look over at Neil, to silently check in, and he was surprised to see that his defensive little rabbit was looking almost relaxed. He didn’t know if it was the power of Bee’s office, or because he realized that being obstinate was only going to work against him here, or because of the tea, but there was a certain resolution in those sharp-as-wit blue eyes that Andrew liked. </p><p>Neil’s gaze flicked quickly toward Bee, who was pretending not to pay attention to them as she gathered her notebook and let them get comfortable, then landed back on him. He lifted one hand and brought it to his chin then pulled it away in a small movement, just a whisper of a sign really - but the words were clear and the message incredibly steadying.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Andrew just nodded, then sipped his cocoa and turned his attention to Bee as she poured the appropriately heated water into the fox mug with the tea bag and handed it to Neil.</p><p>Neil’s eyes widened slightly when he saw the mug, and Andrew hid his smug smirk behind the rim of his own mug. It was a small reaction, really, but it was a true one - and out of the corner of his eye he saw the edge of Neil’s lips curve ever so slightly. </p><p>Bee must have seen it too, because her own smile widened as she sat down in her chair and set her notebook on her lap. “Do you like it? I couldn’t help myself when I saw it at the school store, oh, ages ago.”</p><p>Neil shifted a little awkwardly, clearly not liking having been caught off guard, but he nodded. </p><p>“Good. Now, Neil - I know you’ve been very reluctant to come speak with me, even during the mandatory informal sessions we do each semester. I want you to know that I deeply respect your willingness to come speak with me today and I’d also like to remind you that nothing spoken in this room will ever spread beyond the two of us.” She nodded toward Andrew. “Three of us.”</p><p>Neil just fidgeted and gave a nod. </p><p>“Can you tell me what’s brought you here today?” she questioned gently after another moment, giving Neil the chance to absorb that. </p><p>“Uh… I mean…” Neil looked down at his tea, then seemed to kick himself in the ass a bit and sat up straighter. He didn’t look over at Andrew at all and Andrew allowed himself a small flicker of pride that Neil was well and truly giving this a chance. Then again, he’d never really known Neil to go halfway about anything. It was all or nothing with him. </p><p>“I’ve been really… tense… this week,” he gritted out, his nails already lightly tapping and scraping at his throat. </p><p>Bee nodded and made a small note, her expression in that warm and pleasant neutral. Andrew wondered if she picked up on the nervous tell, too, and was tempted to ask later - but he knew that she’d never tell him even if she had. </p><p>“Was there anything that happened that you can think might have caused the added tension?” she asked calmly. </p><p>“Yeah. I had a nightmare.” The words were gritted out but the sentence didn’t stop and start. That didn’t really make Andrew feel better, though. He didn’t like the idea of Neil forcing himself to say anything, and Neil was the kind of idiot who would push himself too far and too hard just because he’d told himself he was going to do something and damn any consequences to himself. </p><p>He shot a warning look to Bee over the rim of his mug, but it was unnecessary. Bee had calmly set down her pen and was smiling pensively at Neil. “Neil, remember that this is your time here. I am not going to force you to talk about anything you aren’t comfortable with. If all we do today is sit here and drink our tea and our cocoa and just get used to each other, then that’s all we’ll do.”</p><p>Neil scoffed, his mouth running on reflex - but that was already so much better than the forced confession. “How the fuck is sitting here drinking tea supposed to help anything?” Ironically, he then took a few moments to fuss over said tea, removing the tea bag and setting it on a small plate on the little table in front of them and then taking a sip. He sank back into the cushions a bit and regarded Bee cooly through the gently rising steam. </p><p>“Well,” Bee said reasonably, “you’ve already made a huge step today just by being <i>willing</i> to come here. You’re acknowledging that there’s something you’re struggling with, and you’re willing to see if someone else can help you understand it and perhaps give you some tools to handle it. On top of that, you came to <i>me</i>.” When Neil frowned, Bee sipped her cocoa and considered her next words before continuing in that almost matter-of-fact tone that he knew she probably didn’t use with most of her patients - but most of her patients weren’t him or Neil. “I’m under no illusions here, Neil. You do not trust me yet, and that’s okay. Trust doesn’t bloom overnight, not even when you want it to. But for this to work, we do need that trust - even if only a little bit.”</p><p>“Why?” Andrew could tell that there was more that Neil wanted to say, that he hated how clipped short his own question was. He could see it in the tension in Neil’s throat and the way his hands gripped the fox mug like he was trying to strangle it.</p><p>Bee hummed, her pen tapping it’s familiar rhythm on her notebook. <i>Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.</i> “Well,” she started slowly after a moment, her words measured carefully, “truly healing, productive therapy - especially for individuals who have suffered significant trauma - is often about repairing the relationship between a person and their own mind and body. Humans are remarkable. We are incredibly adaptable both physically and mentally, and in times of extreme trauma we can get impressively creative with how we learn to survive - both consciously and unconsciously. Then, when the trauma eases, we adapt again in order to deal with the resulting damage.” Bee paused and considered Neil, as if to see if he was following the explanation. He must be, because he gave a small nod for her to continue.</p><p>Encouraged, Bee smiled and nodded in return, leaning forward a little bit. “These adaptations are instinctive and while they may help with one thing, they very often disrupt us in other ways. That’s where I come in. Neil, none of this is about me, or even about you and me. I was serious when I said this was your time, and I am here for <i>you</i>. I am a tool, a resource, and I’ve been trained to understand the different ways a mind instinctively copes with trauma and strategies to help it help it do so in less disruptive ways. You need to trust me the same way you need to trust your racket on the exy court.”</p><p>Well <i>that</i> seemed to click. Andrew almost rolled his eyes as Neil sat up and he could practically hear his thoughts perk up - more a puppy than a rabbit at the mention of his obsession. He resisted the urge to glare at Bee for making an exy analogy of all things, but since it seemed to have an effect he decided to forgive her just this once. </p><p>“Alright,” Neil said slowly, nodding as he adjusted in his seat. “I think I get it.”</p><p>“Wonderful.” Bee smiled at him proudly. Andrew could tell that it made Neil uncomfortable, but the junkie didn’t say anything and Bee was already moving on. “So, you need to be able to trust me, and there’s no reason to rush ahead of ourselves. It’s going to take time, and that’s okay.” This was clearly incredibly disappointing to Neil, but all the striker did was scowl into his tea. </p><p>“I know,” Bee said with an understanding chuckle at his expression. “But unfortunately, that’s just the way of it.”</p><p>“Okay, fine,” Neil huffed, rubbing his thumb over the nose of his fox mug. “So then… what now?”</p><p>“Do you think you can tell me about the nightmare that set off your tension?” Bee asked gently, and Neil stiffened. His lips pressed together and Andrew could <i>see</i> the muscles tighten and his throat close. “That’s okay,” Bee continued after a moment of tense silence, her voice softer, gentle, and he knew she’d been expecting the reaction. “Then we don’t talk about that today, but I will bring it up again some other time, after we’ve had the chance to ease into things a bit more.”</p><p>Neil gave a terse nod, but didn’t try to say anything. Instead, he took several short, quick sips of his tea. Then he turned and looked at Andrew for the first time since the exchange started with Bee. The expression in his ice-shard eyes was just too fucking raw. It was the wary, vulnerable expression of a man who’d just ripped himself open and was waiting for the knife to finish the job - all contained in the frozen pools of his eyes. Andrew knew that look, and he knew that feeling. Just because he hadn’t actually talked about anything yet didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling it - and Bee was right: that he was here today, that he was letting himself feel any of this at all while in Bee’s office where she could see him, that was <i>huge</i>.</p><p>Andrew set down his mug and moved to the middle cushion, one hand already reaching to settle heavily on the back of Neil’s neck. At the other man’s soft, shaky sigh, Andrew reached the other hand across to gently surround the back of his jaw, thumb pressed lightly to his ear and fingertips pressing firmly to the back of his head as he pulled him in. With Neil’s forehead pressed into the crook of his neck there was no way he could miss the way he trembled and Andrew almost pulled him closer - but to do that he’d have to bring Neil onto his lap and that wasn’t something he was willing to do in front of someone else, not even Bee. </p><p>“Hey.” He kept his voice low, soft, a murmur meant only for Neil. “This is good, you idiot. I know it feels awful. Trust me, I know. And don’t let your stupid head get ahead of you or think that you should be moving faster or saying more, got it? I know how that rabbit mind works, remember? Always fucking running in the worst possible direction. So just don’t.” He didn’t normally talk Neil down from his panic, but then - this wasn’t really a panic attack was it? This was just Neil. </p><p><i>That</i> shook him. This was Neil. <i>Just Neil.</i> The raw, fractured, wounded bits of him. The pieces of himself that he’d been letting Andrew see more and more over the past months and especially this past week - trusting him not to flinch away, trusting him to catch him, trusting him to hold on. </p><p>His grip subconsciously tightened and he closed his eyes, taking a slow breath of his own as he rubbed his cheek lightly against Neil’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere,” he reminded him quietly, then just held on until his rabbit’s shaking subsided. He held on for a while even after it did, and before he pulled away he let himself run his fingers lightly through Neil’s hair simply because he liked to do so and he knew that Neil found that particular touch soothing. </p><p>When they pulled apart Andrew didn’t go far, only leaning away just enough to scoop up his cocoa again. He stayed in the middle cushion, his arm and his thigh pressed tightly to Neil’s, and leveled Bee with a daring glower while Neil had a Kevin-to-vodka inspired reunion with his tea. </p><p>“It’s clear you two have a very supportive and nurturing relationship,” Bee said quietly, with just enough of a detached and casual air so as not to make it seem like she was prying - which, technically, she wasn’t, seeing as all that had just happened four feet away from her in the middle of her office. </p><p>Andrew grunted and gave a small shrug, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised when Neil snapped his head up and glared viciously at Bee. “Of course we do,” he snapped defensively - too raw and too used to defending Andrew to register Bee’s tone as genuine or approving. </p><p>Bee blinked in surprised and Andrew rested a hand on Neil’s knee, squeezing lightly. </p><p>(He <i>absolutely</i> was not going to think about Neil’s instant and unapologetic acceptance and defense not just of <i>Andrew</i> but of <i>their relationship</i>.)</p><p>It did occur to him, though, that it was usually Neil who had to step in and stop him from stabbing people. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this turn around, but he kinda thought a part of him liked it at least a little bit. </p><p>“Most people don’t get it,” Andrew said to Bee by way of explanation, shrugging again, though he did turn to look at Neil when he felt the other’s eyes on him. At the confusion he read there he squeezed again and sighed. “Bee wasn’t being a bitch. Honestly, she probably thinks you’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”</p><p>Neil snorted before Bee could confirm or deny, and retorted before Andrew could even raise a brow. “Other way around, Andrew.”</p><p>That took a moment to process and when it did he felt something warm and burning and tight and <i>wonderful</i> clang around in his chest. He swallowed it down with some effort and looked to Bee for a distraction. He was beginning to realize how bad an idea it was to have the two of them in one room together when he saw the absolutely <i>gushy</i> look on Bee’s face. He pointed a finger at her. “No. We talked about this. This isn’t a surprise to you.”</p><p>Bee, the bitch, chuckled.</p><p>“No, it isn’t. But it’s nice to see all the same.” She turned to Neil, her expression warm and proud and half a dozen other too-soft things that Andrew didn’t want to name. “It’s just very nice to hear someone else speak up on Andrew’s behalf. I do get the impression from what he’s told me that many people do not understand him. I’m very glad he has someone in his life who does, and who appreciates him for who he is.”</p><p>Oh no, no no no, he did not bring the two of them into a room together so they could… could… create some weird Andrew Minyard fan club. No way in fucking hell. “Oh yeah, speaking of, hey Neil - why don’t you tell Bee how you almost decapitated Reynolds with a pear the other day,” he offered maybe a bit too loudly. Satisfaction swelled in time with the shade of pink rising at the tips of Neil’s ears. </p><p>Neil shot him a scathing look and Andrew just stared blankly back at him in challenge. </p><p>For the rest of the hour they drank their tea and hot chocolate respectively and chatted very lightly about the other Foxes, and occasionally snippets about the two of them and their relationship. Sometimes Neil would go quiet but Andrew personally thought that was a good thing - because then he was able to see how Bee didn’t push him, how she was just as happy to move the conversation along as she was to let the silence lay. She was getting to know Neil, too, and she was adapting - like Andrew knew that she would. </p><p>When it was all over they returned to Fox Tower and ended up on the couch. Neil asked him with a pat on his thigh and a questioning look if he could lay his head on his lap again. Andrew responded by turning to lay more fully on the couch and opened his legs, beckoning Neil in to lay against his chest. Even with how tired he obviously was, how eager he was for the simple but encompassing contact, he still held back and waited for Andrew to confirm a second time, verbally, that it was okay - then and only then did he settle in, wedged like a puzzle piece against his chest. Andrew dragged the throw blanket off the back of the couch and covered the both of them. </p><p>Neil was asleep within minutes, emotionally drained from the whole thing. Andrew didn’t sleep even though he was similarly exhausted. Instead, he kept silent vigil and held Neil close all while stroking gentle fingers almost absently through his hair, letting him nap all the way until dinner. </p><p>*****</p><p>As weird and jarring as that whole week had been, Andrew found that the new normal settled in faster than usual. There were a few new additions to his routine, but otherwise nothing much had changed. </p><p>On Mondays Andrew would go with Neil to see Bee, where sometimes the three of them would talk and sometimes Andrew and Bee would carry the conversation and more and more Neil was able to open up in Bee’s presence. Wednesdays were dedicated to learning and practicing more ASL, though they were each taking independent lessons in pockets of free time throughout the week as well. They’d decided to make sure they completed three lessons a week and they always did the second lesson of the week together, usually followed by some general practice. Sometimes they’d skip the practice and do other things with their hands instead. He still had his sessions with Aaron and those were… well, they were what they were. Bee insisted that they were making progress and that it was harder for him to see it because he was on the inside of it, so he just had to trust her professional opinion.</p><p>He and Neil had also decided to take one Saturday a month at the house Columbia that was just them. No Nicky, no Kevin, no Aaron, no homework, and <i>no fucking exy.</i> One Saturday a month in a quiet house with only each other. Despite the whined protests and lewd suggestions from their group about what was absolutely none of their fucking business, the first Saturday he and Neil really didn’t do anything. Neil ended up crashing, exhausted from the stupid junkie hours he was pulling with as he tried to wrangle the freshmen while Dan took point on the rest of them, and other than the times that Andrew forced him awake for meals he pretty much slept the whole day. </p><p>As such, Andrew wasn’t particularly surprised to wake up on Sunday morning to find Neil with an annoying amount of energy. He’d been up at the asscrack of fucking dawn to go on one of his stupid runs, a slight that Andrew forgave him for when he finally dragged his own ass out of bed a couple hours later to find Neil in the kitchen, freshly showered and cooking breakfast. </p><p>There was fresh coffee in the coffee pot as well, and Andrew helped himself to it as Neil worked on some moderately-identifiable concoction on the stovetop. He narrowed his eyes at the mixture of what might have been eggs, potatoes, and at least three different kinds of meat.</p><p>“The fuck are you making?” he grumbled out after a moment. </p><p>Neil grinned and there was something evil about it that made Andrew mostly sure he didn’t want to eat whatever it was. “Oh, this? It’s nothing but carbs, fat, grease, and salt. Absolutely no vegetables whatsoever.”</p><p>That... actually sounded pretty good, all things considered - so Andrew had to wonder at Neil’s devilish glee. He thought back over yesterday, trying to think of a moment where he might have pissed off the junkie and this might be some kind of revenge.</p><p>“Okay..?” he ventured tonelessly when he quickly assessed that he couldn’t have possibly have done anything, not yesterday at least, since Neil had been sleeping most of the damn day.</p><p>“I’m going to take a picture of it and send it to Kevin.”</p><p>Aha. It had nothing to do with him - this particular revenge was against Kevin. As such, it was a revenge he could eagerly partake in - especially since now he was confident that the breakfast concoction wasn’t poisoned. It actually smelled really fucking good.</p><p>“What did he do?” Andrew asked, curious but not surprised. Kevin on a good day was still one of the most offensive human beings on the planet. The pathetic part about it was that the fucking asshole didn’t even do it on purpose. It was just the way he <i>was</i>. Andrew tried not to dwell on the fact that this was also probably one of the reasons they were friends.</p><p>“He left me about twelve texts yesterday.” </p><p>When Andrew rose a brow, Neil tossed him his phone from the counter and Andrew sipped his coffee as he swiped it open and went into the messaging app, tapping on the conversation with <i>Day-mare</i>. Cute.</p><p>
  <b>Make sure Andrew doesn’t eat too much ice cream.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Neil, I’m serious.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Neil, answer your phone.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>You’re at least going to get in a workout this weekend, aren’t you?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>We can’t afford to be slacking off. As you know, the season isn’t going great. We’re barely getting these wins.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Whatever, just keep away from the fast food. It’ll fuck you over for half the week and it’ll affect practices.</b>
</p><p>At this point, Neil must have woken up long enough yesterday to skim the messages because there was a response from him in the form of a picture of his sleepy, bed-headed self, giving the camera his middle finger. Andrew smirked in approval and, after sending a copy of the picture to himself, continued scrolling.</p><p>
  <b>Real mature, Josten.</b>
</p><p>
  <i>fuck you, *Day*</i>
</p><p>There were a few more petty reminders not to ‘ruin themselves’ for one Saturday, but Andrew was already bored with Kevin’s nagging so he tapped the sleep button and set the phone down on the counter with a snort. </p><p>“It’s not like he doesn’t blow out his liver every time we come to Columbia as a group - which is most weekends. What, does he think alcohol is magic and has no effect on the human body other than a buzz and the resulting hangover? And he’s the one always whining for breakfast burritos from the place over on Concord.”</p><p>“Exactly.” Neil snorted and removed the skillet from the burner, turning off the heat before moving to get down two plates. “He’s just being a controlling dick. So, I’m going to take pictures of our breakfast and then we’ll eat it. If it sucks I’ll run back out and get something actually edible but we don’t have to tell Kevin that.”</p><p>Andrew hummed, then tilted his head slightly. “Back out?”</p><p>Neil shrugged. “I needed the meats for the skillet thing, so I went to the store. Picked up some stuff for you too.” At Andrew’s questioning look, Neil gestured first to the freezer and then to the cabinet the two of them had claimed over the summer as their own. A quick inspection showed Andrew that Neil had stocked the freezer with ice cream and various other ice cream novelty treats like ice cream sandwiches and frozen snickers and fudgesicles. The cabinet was similarly stocked with candy, chips, cookies, and ginger snaps (Neil was so fucking weird).</p><p>“If this is how you vent when Kevin is an ass, I might have to let him get away with it more often. Are we staying up here an extra day or something?”</p><p>“No,” Neil said with a regretful sigh. “We’ve both got shit to do today. But we can take some of the snacks back with us.”</p><p>Andrew was tempted to argue and say that they could rearrange their plans and steal Sunday for themselves too, especially since Neil basically slept all day the day before, but he didn’t. Instead he shut the cabinet with a nod and turned back to watch Neil as he set the plates on the table, along with two bottles of soda for effect (because neither of them were partial to soda with breakfast), and took the picture. He sent it off with a very smug smirk.</p><p>“Proud of yourself, are you?” Andrew quipped with a raised brow. </p><p>Neil rolled his eyes and moved the soda back to the counter before picking up his own coffee and taking a seat. “Shut up. Come on, let’s see if this is actually edible.”</p><p>With a shrug, Andrew joined him and took a curious first bite. It was fucking delicious.</p><p>*****</p><p>The second Saturday they claimed to themselves involved a surprisingly normal amount of sleeping on both their parts, even though both of them were exhausted from a week’s worth of bad nights and similarly impossible days. It was a wonder that they even made it to Saturday intact, but they had - and they spent the day alternating between doing absolutely nothing and doing absolutely nothing while being utterly wrapped up in each other, which Andrew supposed - according to their new definition - was actually considered <i>something</i>. </p><p>Sometimes it was frustrating for Andrew, the way a switch inside him would flip almost sporadically back and forth. It was like, now that he knew how <i>good</i> it could feel to touch Neil and be touched by him - not even in a sexual way, or maybe <i>because</i> it didn’t have to be in a sexual way - he just couldn’t get enough of it. He could have a week like the past week, where he got so sucked into his own head he might as well have been twelve years old again in a body that he barely had ownership of and a mind still struggling to hold on and let go of all his precious things at the same time - and then turn around by Saturday, soaking up the feel of Neil’s fingers running through his hair or over and over again down his arm and in circles over his back like a cat in the sun. </p><p>It was like he was almost starved for it, and there was often this half-panicked pull in his chest whenever it seemed like Neil was going to stop and Andrew wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want Neil to stop - or because he didn’t want to <i>not</i> want Neil to stop. Most of the time he was able to push those irritating and conflicting notions away by turning the tables and touching Neil instead. Neil, the fucking junkie, was always willing to be under his hands it seemed, and Andrew had to admit to a certain satisfaction that came with the way his rabbit sighed and melted or moaned and arched under him, depending on where and how he decided to touch him. </p><p>In all, after a terrible week - the weekend had been good.</p><p>On the ride back to campus, Andrew kept one hand on Neil’s thigh and the other on the wheel as a subtle way to tether that calm to them and hopefully carry it back to the Foxhole for the week ahead. The trip was mostly quiet, until they got about twenty miles out from Palmetto.</p><p>“Andrew?”</p><p>Andrew hummed to acknowledge the question, rubbing his thumb over the rough fabric of Neil’s jeans.</p><p>“Tomorrow… I want to talk to Bee on my own.” His voice was quiet but confident, and when Andrew looked over at him Neil met his stare with calm, resolute blue eyes. Steady as a summer day, no storm in sight. </p><p>Still, he studied him for a moment, making sure that Neil wasn’t pushing himself, before nodding and returning his eyes to the road. “Okay.” He squeezed Neil’s thigh lightly, which was as close to saying <i>’I’m so fucking proud of you’</i> as he was willing to get. “Am I standing guard?” He made the question light enough to move on from the subject if Neil wanted to, but he knew that Neil would know he was serious about the offer. </p><p>He wasn’t even looking at him, the bastard, but he could <i>feel</i> him smile. Or maybe it was that when Neil smiled, the very air couldn’t help but respond in kind and so Andrew feeling the side-effect of that. It wouldn’t surprise him, really. More and more Andrew was torn between the conviction that Neil was this fey thing sent to torment him, and that he was the living definition of all that was humanity, a depiction of the true beauty and horror of what happened when you wrapped a mortal shell around a glistening, powerful, magnanimous thing like an immortal soul.</p><p>“No, but could you wait for me in the lobby?” In case Neil changed his mind, or in case he had to end the session early. </p><p>“Of course.” Andrew didn’t know why Neil had decided to see Bee alone tomorrow, whether there was something specific he wanted to talk about or if he wanted to test the bond that he and Bee had gradually been building over the last several weeks - and he wasn’t going to ask. If Neil wanted him to know, then he’d tell him. What mattered most to Andrew was that Neil was taking an active part in his own mental health and he knew from experience how fucking hard that was. </p><p>Not only that, but Andrew absolutely fucking noted the distinct lack of guilt or nerves in his voice when he asked Andrew to wait in the lobby. Maybe their joint sessions with Bee hadn’t been about <i>them</i>, as much as they were supposed to help Neil get his foot in the door with this whole therapy thing, but that didn’t meant the subject of their relationship hadn’t come up and Bee, well, she was both nosy and an opportunist. (As it was her job to be both, Andrew supposed he could forgive her.)</p><p>Seven weeks ago, Neil never would have casually asked him something like that, even if he’d wanted it. He would have agonized over whether he’d be asking too much of Andrew, if he even had the right to <i>request</i> that Andrew linger for him, and he ultimately would have brushed it off and told Andrew to do what he liked - which Andrew would have then interpreted as an invitation to just fuck off. Because staying would have been a potential infringement on Neil’s physical boundaries and ‘do what you want’ is not a ‘yes’. </p><p>Neil didn’t seem to think he was entitled to ask anyone for their time or attention. It was a trait that had helped them begin their relationship, because it meant that no matter what Neil was feeling he put absolutely no pressure on anyone else to be around him or interact with him - and Andrew’s brokenness had needed that. Now… now he didn’t. Not because his brokenness had gone away, but because Neil had changed in his mind from being an unknown and a threat to being something definitively <i>safe</i>. That meant that even when Neil asked things of him Andrew could completely trust that his answer, yes or no, would be completely respected.</p><p>However, while they’d both come to realize this on their own at least regarding the physical aspect of their relationship - the emotional part was… new to both of them. They were still figuring it out, but a little nudge here and there from Bee was less annoying than he’d thought it would be. In this case, a nudge had come in the form of Bee dragging Neil’s stupid little rabbit brain around to the realization that he was allowed to ask things of other people, he was allowed to be selfish with his mental health, and he was allowed to make his wants and needs known. Yeah, revolutionary fucking idea, right? It hadn’t exactly been a <i>fun</i> conversation, and Neil took it out on himself that evening at practice like a fucking idiot again to the point that Andrew had almost brained him with his own damn racket.</p><p>But, at the end of practice, Neil had grabbed his sleeve and signed “Roof?” without meeting his eyes. Still high on his own irritation, Andrew hadn’t realized the significance until they were already up on the roof of Fox Tower, silently absorbed with their own cigarettes. The routine that all the muscles in his chest had performed when he did had him almost dropping his cigarette. Neil had asked for what he’d needed - and that was time with him on the roof, the normalcy of their silent smoke break, the comfort of his presence. Even though Andrew was angry with him, even though he risked getting told to fuck off when he was already raw, he’d opened up and he’d given Andrew that trust - he’d been honest with Andrew and honest with himself when he normally wouldn’t have.</p><p>And now, Neil was asking him for his time. He was asking him to wait for him, on standby, in case he needed him - and Andrew was struck so hard with so much <i>something</i> that he had to slow down and pull the car off to the side of the road.</p><p>When Neil looked over at him with a concerned frown, Andrew moved his hand from the wheel over to grip his idiot’s jaw. “Yes or no?” His words came out rough to his own ears so he wasn’t surprised to see Neil’s eyes widen at the show of emotion.</p><p>“Yes.” The word came out in a sigh that caught upward at the end in a half-whimpered, almost-murmured sound that Andrew associated solely with Neil.</p><p>Andrew brought them together, and Neil kept them there with his sighs and his passion and the softness of his mouth and the way his hands still moved slowly when they reached for him even though he’d long since been granted the blanket permission to touch his shoulders and above when they kissed. Those long, elegant fingers - no less lovely for their scars and their callouses - trailed up his neck and sent shivers down his spine until they could curl into his hair and pull him closer. </p><p>It would never cease to amaze him how kissing Neil could transport him to a whole other universe. One that existed only in the magnetism of <i>them</i>. There was no car, there was no road. There was no exy or Kevin Day or mob. There was no ice cream or pears. There was only this. It wasn’t nothing, and it never had been. It was more than something, even if that was what he’d currently settled on. Still, somewhere in the back of his mind or maybe in the guarded den that housed his heart - he knew.</p><p>It was <i>everything</i>.</p>
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